Stardust Utopia
by warpy
Summary: "We fight, not because we want to, but because it's right. And for the glory of the stars, we will until the bitter end." The entire account of the Galaxy Soldier Army, as told by its soldiers.
1. It's a Small, Secluded World

**Chapter 1: It's a Small, Secluded World**

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: 218/12**_

Throughout the years I have been following the Kirby fandom, there has not yet been a single written work covering the entirety of the events before the anime in what I believe to be a fully canonical way. Whatever few works I've been able to come across have either been long since abandoned, or only contain a few scenes of it, and any few details I've been able to find have pieced up something incomplete.

This fanfic is going to cover the entire account of the Galaxy Soldier Army, from start to finish. It's sort of a prequel to Kirby of the Stars (the Kirby anime), but even if you don't know much about the anime, no knowledge of the series is required in order to enjoy this story, and arguably might even make reading this story better. In other words, regardless of whether you know about Kirby or not, anyone could understand this fanfic. My goal with this fic is to provide a _full, canonical account_ of what happened during the war with Nightmare, all while kicking common Kirby cliches to the curb, fleshing out the canonical characters, and doing my best to stay within the range of the canon given to me. Some things I still hold my creative license of interpretation with, but in other words, it's like a case study.

This project has taken a very long time to get this far, as it's such a massive undertaking. A total of _four years_ has gone into the production of making this fic readable to the public. Four years of planning, drafting, writing, rewriting from scratch, and starting everything all over again.  
>Because of this, I consider <span>Stardust Utopia<span> to be the Magnum Opus of my entire writing experience, and never again will I have the capacity nor the energy to write another story like this again. So enjoy it when it's still being written, and when I'm still working my hardest to bring this story to light.  
>I'll do my best to stay true to my words and carry them out all the way to the end. That'll be my end of the promise.<p>

Content notes: I purposely did not name the narrator, but I did leave some clues. His identity is revealed in the next chapter, if it isn't obvious enough who it is already.  
>This first chapter might seem slow, since it sets the scene and include many crucial things. Expect things to really heat up and get a lot darker by around the fourth chapter, since that's when the main goal of the story <em>really<em> starts.  
>Of course, I do not own any of these characters, only my interpretations of them. All copyrights are to their due respects.<p>

Without further ado, enjoy my first – if not only – published work and please leave a review.

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><p>THE FIGURE crept through the dark like the shadow of an assassin sneaking up to its victim.<p>

He stood alone in the center of an empty cavern, facing a dark passageway that led to places far within. The only light was a small, hopeful ray seeping through the open door, left ajar - leading to a ravaged, barren wasteland filled with nothing but smoke from burned-out buildings, destruction, and lost causes.  
>Spiraling from the world outside, seeping into the solace of safety and darkness, was the scent of war. A pungent smell, at the least. Of blood, burnt hair, and the bodies of the dead. There were no funerals for the enemy or his comrades, no honor or memoir for the fallen. All became one on the battlefield, crashing together in a spark of fangs and steel so that no one was the wiser, and no one was the victor.<br>Many things had changed. Peace had changed, power had changed, the tides of battle had changed. But war, the only constant...war will always remain the same.

There was no turning back. It was either to follow through, to walk on and leave this place—to carry on, or stay there forever, in that same spot—unmoving and helpless, not knowing whether to go forward or to look behind. Either way, it would be an end, as well as a beginning.

He hesitated, and for that short moment, it was almost as if the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders, waiting for him to make that one decision, within that one step.

He chose to follow through.

The warrior would find him. No matter how barren the skies or the distance to fly, even if it was his final order, even if it was the last thing he would ever do, he vowed to keep his promise. That promise to himself, to the one he was seeking, to his comrades among the stars, to the whole universe that depended all on this single declaration. He would find the child.

.

..

...

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><p><em>Chapter 1: "<em>**I**t's a Small, Secluded World..."

...

..

.

…_Day after day, the same mediocrity._

…_Night after night, the same restlessness._

_Nothing can break that cycle. That's the only certainty._

These thoughts passed my mind as I drifted down the familiar pathway that led to the forest. I drew in the morning air with a long breath, and let it out, along with the thoughts that wore me down. My breath was visible in the cold, and each heavy sigh billowed out a cloud of warm vapor. Leaves rustled beneath my purple feet, and above my round blue body, shafts of warm light shone through the canopy of trees overhead.

_It wasn't anything I needed to escape in particular, nor anything I wanted to avoid-  
>…but the essence of being alone was the only thing to look forward to.<em>

Walks like these in the woods would take up the entire day. I had nothing to miss. Leave in the morning, retrace my steps for a midday rest, and return until nightfall, when I was forced to come back home again. This quickly became a routine, and it stuck. The fall's early sunset shortened my hours, but it provided a beauty – something striking – that, also, was something to look forward to.  
>These walks served another purpose to me – for me to think, unhindered by anything else except my own thoughts. My mind and the forest were indispensable – there were many topics to think about.<br>However, this forest and this mediocrity was the only life I knew. Hopes of anything else were merely fantasy, some arbitrary pipe dream dreamt of on a long walk, and nothing more. If there was anything else other than this…I would give up hope of ever knowing it.

.

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><p>I spent the whole day in the forest and returned home earlier that evening, just in time for dinner. Not that anyone was around to call me back in, though.<p>

I lived alone in a village – well, it would have been a stretch for one to call it that – with a small population. Although our numbers were few, everyone knew each other and cared for one another. However, I was perfectly capable of managing on my own, as one less worry for everyone else.  
>The house I lived in was a small one – but for me, it was just big enough. There was nothing to hide in it, and nothing of value, either. The only entrances were a drafty wooden door that could only be locked from the inside, and a tiny, narrow window at the top of my bedroom wall. There were only three rooms in it – my bedroom, a kitchen with a small gas stove tucked into the corner, and a room for my parents…if they were ever present. I was fortunate enough to have running water and electricity for a few hours each day, and the only light source I had was from a flickering lightbulb in the kitchen. And once it broke, I didn't have a replacement.<br>The place provided little comfort, but just enough to sustain. Now, this change of season would have been the time to start stocking a supply of firewood and finding a thicker blanket.

...But it's not the cold I mind.

On most nights I'd light a candle and read from a dusty, thick book about old legends, wrapped up in several blankets. The only other books I owned were an even thicker one about history and a book filled with facts. Neither of them were good reading material to spend the evening hours with, but I had no other choice.

_But_, I thought, _not this time_. Not the usual routine today. Today was special.

In a small storage closet by the door was a simple ladder fashioned out of sticks I had collected from my long walks out in the forest. It wouldn't have been able to hold up a grown adult, but for my purposes, it did exactly what I needed it to do.  
>I dragged the ladder out of the closet, threw open the door, and without closing it behind me, headed out. I had done this before, and tonight, I was going to do it again. I propped the ladder against the side of my house, steadied it, and with a leap and a bound, pulled myself upright and climbed up to the roof.<p>

The sky was clear that day. So full of stars. Containing worlds I could never reach, never comprehend, and only hope to see.  
>I liked being up high, away from all other noises, with just me, my mind, and the stars for company. Here I could see everything going on in both planes, ground and sky. It gave me a strange feeling of authority that I shouldn't have.<br>Occasionally, on specialdays like these, I would come down from that vantage point…and step into the world of the mundane.

In that moment it had struck me of how bland my life had become, with every single action part of some customary routine. Even the time I spent in awe and bewilderment was planned as well. Everything had all of a sudden felt so fake, trivial, _superficial – _and I was determined to change it. Thus, I decided to pay a visit to the villagers in hopes that they could ease my mediocrity.

I had no interest in the antics of the villagers – they gave me a home, a constant supply of food, and I didn't need anything else – except for the stories they had to tell.

That night (which seemed to be special, even beyond my point of view), a crowd had gathered in one house, the home of the person who served as the storyteller, and the dirt path that ran through the settlement was bustling with commotion. I ignored their stares, the dumbfounded expressions of those who thought that I would never have appeared in that crowded area, or even in their line of sight altogether.

"_That kid…since when does he ever go here?"_

"_What business does he have with us?"_

"_As if he isn't crazy enough already…"_

The atmosphere was that of a happy one, so invigorating that it had almost affected me. The crowd had spilled out all the way into the street, and with my tiny frame, it was less of a challenge to squeeze into a place where I could see the person in the center of all this commotion. When I was able to get inside, I settled into a corner, distancing myself from the other people my age.  
>In the middle of the room sat the storyteller, I assumed – on a plush velvet armchair. Children sat beneath him on all sides on the carpeted floor.<br>Here, in the shadows, was where I began to listen.

"So, what story do you want to hear today?" the storyteller began. "Would you like to hear about King Arthur?"  
>The crowd of children babbled with dissent.<p>

"No, we've heard that one a million times!"  
>"That one's old! You tell us that every night!"<p>

"How about…hm, something about the Star Warriors?" The storyteller suggested.

"But which one? There's tons of legends about them!"

"Hm…I think I have one. You'll see. But first, let's start from the very beginning…"

_...Now __**this**_ _was what I had come for!_

And with a clearing of the storyteller's throat, the tale began.

"…In the beginning, long before any of you were born, long before anyone knew what war or sadness was, there was peace. And there were the Star Warriors, who stood for hope, peace, and justice itself, maintaining, preserving, and keeping that balance throughout the entire universe."

"How did they get there, in the first place?" A boy in front of me asked.

"What matters isn't how they got there, it's what they do that's important."

There was a quiet, obvious "Oh", and the storyteller continued his legend.

"But anyway, there was the universe, and all was well…until someone came along to ruin it.  
>"You see, every story must have a villain, right? In this case, our story's villain is the work of one man…and his organization. And that man is called Nightmare – the Emperor of Darkness, the paragon of all evil."<p>

"What's that mean?"

"Embodiment, representation, you know – well, if evil was a person, it would be Nightmare.  
>"Tens of thousands of years ago, Nightmare decided that the best way to take over the universe would be through a company. And so he formed one. He called it 'Nightmare Enterprises'.<p>

"This organization isn't just your average company – as a whole, instead of making things that help people, they make monsters. Dragons, demons, evil beasts, monsters of every shape and form, made in the likeness of nightmares themselves…they all exist – made by Nightmare, of course. However, their products don't do what exactly what they say on the label. They're made only to cause destruction, and nothing more. Everything they do, everything they make, is for one cause alone – and that is to rule the entire universe under an iron fist.

"Soon enough, people found out the real reason behind the origin of the monsters. And there were a few that knew, for sure, that what Nightmare did was wrong. And they decided to speak up against it. And so, they began to fight the monsters."

"The Star Warriors, weren't they?" Someone in the crowd of spectators had been quick to jump to the conclusion.

"Why, yes! Think of it this way—if Nightmare is everything evil in the universe, then the Star Warriors are everything good. They are a race of honor, destined to take part in the clash between good and evil. They stand for everything in the name of justice, and stomp down everything in the name of anger and hatred beneath their feet. It is said that the mark of the Star Warriors is the power of the stars themselves, for they are vast in number, as countless and unmeasurable as the stars in the sky.

One day the Star Warriors got together and they said, 'This isn't right! We need to protect the universe, and warn every single person that their very existence is in danger.' And so, the Star Warriors gathered together to declare war against Nightmare and his creations, and the battle began!

They fought and they fought. Battles were won, victories were made. Planets and entire galaxies were liberated, and all was well. Until one day…this company, Nightmare's Corporation, decided to do the one thing they could do to prevent the Star Warriors from taking him down—he took their trump card, the most powerful weapon in the universe, away from them."

"What is it?" I heard someone ask. "What's the most powerful weapon in the universe?"

"My friend, the most powerful weapon in the universe is the sacred sword, Galaxia, spoken of in legends very much like the one I am telling you right now. By no means is it a mere sword! It's said that it was forged by the gods from bolts of lightning, and it even has a mind of its own. It took many years, just to forge that sword, and it possesses enough power to kill a soldier just by the energy that pulsates from it. And there's no doubt that the Star Warriors needed it, and how Nightmare wanted it. For as long as it was in Nightmare's possession, the Star Warriors could not stop him from universal domination.

"Nightmare sent one of his creations to take care of the matter, and once he recovered it, he hid it in a subterranean cave, secured in a faraway land—where it is, nobody knows except for Nightmare himself. Thousands of years passed, and the Star Warriors did everything they could to recover Galaxia, but they had all been in vain. Every soldier they sent to retrieve it had never returned.

"The Star Warriors have said that the only people that can wield the sword are people of the purest hearts, the most valiant and brave. Galaxia has a temperament—if it deems a warrior too impure for its standards, it will destroy that warrior immediately. That is the most that they know, and everything else is unknown.

"Now, you might ask, 'What's the point of trying to get something that nobody who tried has ever gotten before?'. It's not about the what-ifs or the should-I's, it's about getting things done! You'll never reach your goals unless you try, right? And who knows? If you train hard and aim high, one of you may be the first to find Galaxia…and come back to tell the tale."

As soon as the storyteller had finished his story, the children, without even bothering to clap after the telling was finished, responded with "We want another story!"

A woman standing beside him, most likely a mother, leaned over to say something to him. "Well, well, look at them. You wound them at all up. At this rate, they'll never sleep on time. You'd better tell them another one that'll make them sleep. How about just scare 'em straight? That always works."

"You never know it, with kids like these," he answered. "But now what?"

"Go ahead, tell them another one. We've got all night."

"I can't think of anything else," he replied.

"I'm sure you've got one. If you can't think of anything, you can always make one up on the spot."

The storyteller sighed visibly as the children incessantly begged him for another story. Finally, he sat up straighter, and readied himself.

"Well, here you go. All right, all right, kids, here's another story. This one's a story you all know—the legend of…Galactic Knight."

There were quiet whispers and murmurs, and even I let out a breath of anticipation.

_**I**_ _certainly didn't know of it._ Not once in any of my books had a 'Galactic Knight' been mentioned, making me all the more curious.

"Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, lived a certain Galactic Knight."

"Like King Arthur?"

"Oh, yes—much like King Arthur. He was a Star Warrior, maybe even the strongest one who ever lived. He fought for justice, smiting evil, defending the weak…but however! There was one big difference. He did it all for himself."

A hush fell through the crowd.

The one to break the silence was a kid near my age, sitting by the door. "But…how? Why would a good guy do that?"

"You see, the only thing he wanted was power. Galactic Knight cared for nothing else except getting stronger. To him, banishing evil was only a means of training himself to become stronger. The more he fought, the less he remembered his original cause. So every evildoer that fell at his hands was not in the name of justice, but because of his own selfishness.  
>"Soon enough…people realized it. That Galactic Knight wasn't fighting for the sake of others, but out of his own greed. But no one could stop him; he had grown too powerful. It is said that at the galaxy's end, there is a comet that can grant any wish. One only needs enough power to summon it, and once their wish is stated upon that comet, it will be granted. Galactic Knight didn't just want power—he wanted to be the <em>greatest<em> warrior in the galaxy! He had more than enough power to summon that comet. His comrades, however, knew about this. And so they set up a plan to get rid of him—for good.

A few of the Star Warriors, along with Galactic Knight himself, headed out in search for that comet. And with the help of Galactic Knight's strength, they summoned it. Like I said, it could grant any wish, right? So, the Star Warriors took that wish and used it to seal him away, for his own power had become too great for him to bear. The Star Warriors stole his wish, and thus, Galactic Knight was banished away from the universe for eternity. And still, to this day, he remains there, locked away in some place; we'll never know where.  
>"...But who knows? Legends say that if the time is right, Galactic Knight will reawaken, seeking revenge upon the Star Warriors that sealed him away. And he'll stop at nothing, no one—including yourself, young ones. He'll make no discernment, no difference between mortal man or Star Warrior. He will kill everyone, and everything, that attempts to stand in his path of vengeance.<p>

"Well then, always remember—don't go too far with anything you can't handle yourself. And don't stay up too late after dark—who knows if Galactic Knight might be lurking around in these parts? So, go to sleep on time tonight, or Galactic Knight might get you! That's it for today!"

The crowd of children clapped, finally satisfied, and discussing the stories amongst themselves, they slowly filed away. From my corner I heard them out in the street, play-fighting each other with sticks. "I'm a Star Warrior! Feel the power of my magic sword, Galaxia!" I overheard. _How naïve. Hearing a legend and re-enacting it with such folly._

The storyteller was about to get up from his chair and head upstairs until I suddenly approached him.

"That Galactic Knight-was he really sealed away?" I asked abruptly.

He looked in my direction, obviously surprised. "Hey, it's you, huh? Never would have expected you."

"Was he really sealed away?" I demanded again, only caring about an answer and not how surprised people were to see me reveal my face in public.

"If the legend's true, then yes. But, as for re-awakening…well, you gotta come up with things to scare the kids sometimes, right? Haha…funny how you can control their minds like that. Tell them about Star Warriors so they can learn their morals. Tell them about monsters, and they'll stay closer to home without daring to wander off."

By the time the storyteller trailed off that sentence, I had already turned my back and started walking away.  
>Even though I knew it was silly to believe them, and I had no way of verifying them, still—these legends…they were quite something.<p>

_...Star Warriors, huh?_

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><p>I remember distinctly that night, the way the story had struck me—how a simple legend made for children to behave could have been felt so close to my heart.<p>

That night, as I lay in bed awake, pondering and absorbing the events of the day, something became known to me that I hadn't realized before.  
>Throwing off the covers and leaping out of bed, I made my way in the dark to the nightstand and fumbled for a candle and the matchbook that lay beside it. I lit the candle and reached into the bottom drawer, and from under a pile of bedsheets, I pulled out a golden metal star.<p>

It was this little trinket that had been nagging at me. _"The mark of the Star Warriors",_ the storyteller had said, _"...is the power of the stars themselves."_ I had been pondering that line as I walked home, and my golden metal star came to mind.  
>How long I've had this star I didn't know, but it had always been sitting in its place at the bottom of all my things. Occasionally, on special nights like these, I'd often take it up to the rooftop and hold it up to the sky, covering up the moon and reflecting its light.<p>

It seemed to be made of gold, or some other metal of that color, but small and light enough to fit in the palm of my hand. And when the going got tough, I always knew that I had this star, worth more than I could ever imagine – I figured could bring me a large sum of money if I traded it away in a faraway land. Still, I knew I couldn't bear selling it, let alone parting with it. It seemed that I had a natural attachment to this strange, curious object, but I couldn't name nor put my finger on exactly why that was.

I held it in my palms again, letting it catch the warm firelight of the lit candle, and admired its beauty once more before putting out the candle and going back to bed.

…And, just in case Galactic Knight did decide to pay me a visit, I placed the metal star under my pillow as a good luck charm.

* * *

><p>The next day came like any other. Bright, brisk, and rather cold.<p>

And, as it had turned out, Galactic Knight had not decided to stop by.

As a step of my adequately scheduled routine, I would make myself breakfast before going on a long walk once more. I made an effort to do these things quickly and quietly, so that I would slip away unnoticed, even by the early risers of the village. But it meant for me that as the fall season ended and winter would be soon approaching, it would be harder for me to compete against the frigid, dark mornings and my own tiredness, as the sun rose later and the day grew shorter. It also meant that my walks would be significantly shortened, and I would be good as dead if trapped outside in the woods after dark. It was only early fall, though, so I had still the last traces of summer to hold onto before it got much colder.

Today, just for my own benefit, I decided to break my routine yet again and I took the metal star, still under my pillow from last night's thoughts, and set off clutching it in my hand.

I took a different route than usual, a scenic detour by a stream that cut through the middle of the forest. Here I could follow the stream up to its source, a clearing with a waterfall with a drop as tall as the canopy trees. It would take an hour or more just to walk there, seeing as it was so far into the woods, but I knew my way around and it would be well worth the trip.  
>As I walked I thought about how I rarely ever kept favorites, but fall was indeed a beautiful season. There was no denying it, even a person like me would lose to the breathtaking scene of the now half-bare trees, leaves turning into a palette of colors and bringing life to my existence.<p>

Through that hour came to me this realization:  
>There were some things I had learned to appreciate in my world, the only one I knew of.<br>One of them was that I had this beautiful forest to myself. It was here to stay, and so was I.  
>The other was that I was bound to never leave it. There was no reason for me to leave, and I didn't have a reason to deal with the troubles of the world that existed outside mine. That world gave nothing to me, and I would take nothing of that world as well. Ignorance was bliss.<br>_Here, in this cage, __**it's a small, secluded world. **__That is the way it has been, and always will be._

When I reached the clearing I sat down on a flat rock away from the spray of the waterfall and dangled my feet in the cold flowing water. My troubled thoughts were set free, trickling away downstream and melting into the riverbanks of the forest.  
>Still holding it in my hand, I looked at the metal star I had brought along with me and held it up to the sky, right next to the sun. The sun was a star also, but it was unfathomable to me how large it was. I had remembered reading in a book that a million average-sized planets could fit inside a sun. And even so, I couldn't comprehend just how much a million was. On paper, it was only one followed by six zeroes. But in life? I didn't have any frame of reference to realize just how much that could be.<p>

When I had first found out about that fact, I eagerly turned the page and found that there were more stars in the universe than grains of sand on the beaches of my planet. And even still, I was living in the solar system of just one star among the 200 billion in this galaxy.  
>That had brought me to wonder...<em>'what does that make me?<em>' To think that I was just one lone person, amidst a sea of unfathomably large numbers, among things so unremarkably insignificant.

In reality, _**it's a big world, after all. **_

I lowered the star and turned my gaze to the trees, simply stopping my train of thought to just relax, to be at ease with my laughably small self. I wanted to enjoy this peace; it was the among the only things I was guaranteed. Hours passed with ease with nothing but the sound of the waterfall, the wind rustling through the trees, and my own thoughts as I let them go and wander.

For that moment, all was calm. Nothing could have happened that day, and I could have spent the entire morning right here, by myself, with nothing but the sound of my thoughts and the water.

Looking up towards the sky, I noted that the position of the sun told me it was around noontime. I would have stayed in the forest for much longer, but however, something instinctual within me told me to leave. _Strange,_ I thought. _A premonition, maybe?_ As odd as it seemed, I followed the feeling down the stream and began to trace my way back home, metal star in hand.

The freeing of my thoughts had left me in high spirits, and for once, I was genuinely happy. As I skipped over rocks and logs and walked over patches of light, the little star seemed to gleam even brighter, filling me with cheerful, broadening energy.  
>At the edge of the forest where the trees began to thin out, the dreadful instinctual feeling returned. Something was definitely wrong, I knew it for sure—I could feel the tension—but what the danger I sensed was remained unknown to me.<p>

...That was when I smelled smoke.

I ran in panic, breaking free from the cover of the last few trees and bolted down the dirt path. Bracing myself for something horrible, I imagined the worst.  
>What I saw before my eyes had been far worse than I had expected.<p>

_Destroyed. Everything had been destroyed._

The village was gone, reduced to burning embers. I continued down the path that ran through the middle of what used to be two rows of houses.  
>Ahead of me, my home, the only one I'd ever lived in, lay in ruins. This struck a nerve inside me, as if my own carelessness had led me to ignore the safety of my own village. Or perhaps, that same carelessness had saved me from being burned to the ground, along with everything else?<br>I clenched my fists and grimaced. This was no ordinary house fire that had spread due to the houses being so closely built together. It wouldn't have taken long for the fire to travel from one to the other, eventually dousing the entire community in flames and soot under burning conflagration. I shook that image out of my head.

_There was definitely a greater force at hand...but what business would they have with us to do all of this?_

That question was answered when a large one-eyed dragon and its rider on top of it jumped out from behind the remnants of a brick wall, blocking my way out.  
>Suddenly, I thought back to the story I'd heard just the night before. <em><br>"Dragons, demons, evil beasts, monsters of every shape and form, made in the likeness of nightmares themselves…they all exist-made by Nightmare, of course..."_

"No way!" I yelled aloud, pointing in fear at the dragon and its master. "But monsters don't exist! They're just legends!"

_"Say that again when you meet your maker_," growled another voice behind me.

I turned around to see another beast, this one different than the other—it had amber-colored scales and had a set of three claws on each paw, like an animal that I'd only read of in books before. The rider on top of it, the one who spoke, motioned to his comrade on the dragon.

"This is the one we're after. Our master will be happy to deal with him while he's alive."

I was surrounded now, and quickly running out of options. If I ran, both my escape routes would be blocked and I would only face fate in pain. If I fought, it would have been an unwinnable battle.

The henchman on the amber beast, seemingly amused by the expression of utter fear on my face, brandished a weighted net in one hand and a needle in the other. "Don't worry, kid," he cooed in false reassurance. "This will be quick...and painless."

In an instant, they were upon me, and they threw the net over me and jabbed the needle into my cheek. And before I could resist or fight back, they threw me into a burlap sack and carried me away.

* * *

><p><em>...Where am I?<em>

When I came to, all the signs of anything familiar had disappeared. Carefully, I felt every joint of my body to check if anything was damaged. Although I was aching all over, nothing had been broken. I reached to touch my backside and felt that it was surprisingly itchy, and when I scratched and looked at my hand, I saw blood from a wound I'd just reopened.

_Good, at least I'm alive, _I thought. _But what now?_

I couldn't piece together anything. Where I had come from moments before had all been a blur. I tried in vain to trace things as far back as I could. Just last night I had been listening to a story about…monsters, was it? Then, the next morning, I had gone for a walk, and upon my return, a pair of the monsters I heard about the night before had appeared, and one of the guys with the monsters had put me in a net, injected something in me with a needle...and after that, I remembered nothing.

_It was an amnesiac drug,_ I realized. _They drugged me so I wouldn't be able to remember what they did to me. What did they do? _Maybe I'll never find out...I knew I lost consciousness—I could have been out cold for hours, days, weeks for all it mattered, and I woke up with no sense of where I'd come from the minute before.

Hesitantly, I clawed at the ground and pulled myself forward, inches away from a fifty-foot drop to my death.  
>Standing at the edge of a plateau, I stared down at a vast expanse that looked like a gigantic empty bowl cut into the ground. What probably had once been an ocean had been reduced to a few dirty scattered puddles. It looked like something from the depths of my nightmares, the cruel parts of imagination that were never meant to surface. Anything I'd ever known before was now gone; this was nowhere near home. I could have been on the other side of the world—even on a completely different planet with a different star.<p>

An uncanny wind broke through the silence, as the clouds suddenly parted, rays of sunlight piercing down to the canyon below. A shadow cast down on the rocky seabed, and with a brilliant flash of light and the whirr of a powerful engine, a gigantic machine with a long cylindrical body and a spiked metal wrecking ball on a chain in its hands descended from the sky. The machine blasted at the world beneath it with the power of engines attached beneath its feet, with the ground shaking violently from its force. I stepped back, holding an arm up for a sense of protection. _Was this what they call a 'monster'?_

Far off to my right I could see, to my surprise, a tall figure in full armor standing at the far end of the empty sea. Tensing himself, cape billowing behind him, shield and sword in hand, he held his weapon forward and charged at the giant machine.

The robotic _monster_ responded instantly by hurling its flail at the plateau the warrior stood on, breaking off a huge chunk of land. To this the warrior paid no heed, dodging the spiked wrecking ball with ease. He had the advantage now—the head of the flail lay buried under the remains of the rock ledge, rendering it useless to its wielder, the eldritch and colossal machine.

Then, defying all logic I'd ever come to known, the warrior ran past the wrecking ball and sprinted up the thick chain that was his bridge between his position and the machine itself. It was a risk that no sane man would ever have taken—one misstep and he'd have nothing between him and the ground to stop him from a plummet to his death.

The machine, assuming if it was even sentient, had a vague understanding of this concept. It increased the force of its engines and hovered higher above the ground, pulling back on the chain with a screech of metal to wrestle the flail free. Yanking the chain back towards its core, the machine returned its weapon to its hands, sending the warrior down to the earth.

He was free-falling now, and for a moment he turned to look in my direction as he realized the prescence of another person. I caught a glimpse of his features—spiky golden hair, a silver mask covering his face, a golden metal star pinned to his chest...It looked like he was panicking, thinking of a way to slow down his fall somehow. Desperation took over and there was nothing he could do but hold his sword up defenselessly. In fear I peered over the edge of the canyon—shouting, even, as if it could have helped.

At that moment, I could've sworn he turned his head to wink at me, as if he was hiding an obvious trick that would have trivialized the entire battle.

_**"...SWORD BEAM!"**_

A brilliant ray of light shot through the warrior's weapon, hitting the ground beneath him at an angle to slow his fall. As he landed, he angled the blast upward, shooting energy like magic I'd never knew existed across the canyon, homing right into the monster's core. In a final grand explosion, the monster was destroyed, hailing down tons upon tons of metal pieces that tore away the entire rim of the dried sea, sending me toppling down to the canyon in a landslide of rocks and dirt.

The dust settled, and when I looked up, I saw the warrior towering over me, as he sheathed his weapon and pulled off the mask that concealed his face. He extended a hand, the gesture beckoning me to reach for it.

"So you're the one," he said in a smooth, masculine voice. "Hey there. Did I scare you?"

I shook my head, and as I tried to stand up and take a wobbly step towards him, I felt a wave of fatigue envelop me. The last few days had broken me down to the core, equally a burden on my body as well as my mind. Every muscle and bone in my body felt sore.  
>I reached up, staggering over to grab the warrior's hand, but fell short and collapsed on the ground. There was no energy left within me, not even enough to pick myself up. I lay helpless in the dirt, as my senses were dimming and my body succumbing to physical defeat.<p>

"Hey…hey, kid! Wake up!" The warrior yelled, but even the sound of his words were fading.

And as quickly as the man had come and won the battle, the world closed in on me, and everything went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: 218/12**

To get a feel for the pacing of this story, I'd estimate that each chapter will be around 7,500 words long. Originally, the first and the second chapter were supposed to be together, but due to the length, I had to split them in half.  
>This is the first work I've posted on this site, but it definitely isn't the first thing I've ever attempted writing. I've spent a total of four years planning, building and revising the premise of this story, and it's definitely taken me a lot of work to present this in its current form. I appreciate any feedback and will gladly answer any questions you may have.<p>

Update 3/27/12: Went back to add a scene to the prologue and a few little words here and there. No major changes, though.  
>422/12: Finally got around to doing some minor edits that a few reviewers have mentioned before. Thanks to all who help me make this story even better!


	2. Nevertheless, That Binds Us Together

**Author's Note: 3/1/12**

Essentially, this is the second part of the first chapter, the one that brings sense into everything that was left unexplained in the 'first' chapter. The name of the narrator will be revealed rather early on, in case you didn't pick up on the faint clues left earlier.

The first time I wrote this chapter, it written almost entirely, but it turned out to be too dull, descriptive, and expository. When I realized this, I was already running terribly behind schedule, and was desperately looking for a solution to make this chapter less 'flat'. I'll admit it, it was a spur of the moment decision, since I was rushing to meet my own personal deadline. My hope is that I can avoid pulling out drastic tone-changes like this (you'll see what I mean near the end—this is where I justify my rating), but it shines a light on how potentially dark this story will become.

Content notes: The original working title for this chapter was meant to be "**W**elcome to the GSA", but due to other plans, it was changed to "**N**ow, you're one of us!". I wasn't satisfied with the change because it didn't sum up the events in this chapter, and in the final version it became "**N**evertheless, That's What Binds Us Together." I still think that the very first original title fits the best.

All the characters that appear in this chapter and throughout the story are based off the appearances of unnamed background characters. They were present in some of the flashbacks from _Kirby of the Stars_. Again, I own nothing—only my personal interpretations of the characters and their personalities.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>No,<strong>_** he** _**will not be awakened yet, for his time has not yet come, but soon, very soon..."**_

_...Fever dreams._

_I knew I was dreaming, but this was too vivid for a dream, more so than any other dream I'd ever experienced before. This felt...real. Too real. Like I was awake, even though I knew I was asleep in reality.  
>Were they just nightmares...or recollections from when I wasn't aware of myself?<em>

_I felt myself floating in space, drifting past an infinite number of stars and planets. Echoing all around me there were voices, overlapping each other and forming a cacophony, noisy and incoherent. There was only one voice that boomed above all the others, strong and collected among the chaos it was speaking over._

_"**Your time has come."**_

_The depths of space faded and I felt myself land on solid ground, on a life-sized checkerboard that never ended, extending beyond the horizon on all sides. When I stood up, a bony, iron fist slammed into the board, and it was smashed into pieces. Each piece turned into a blob of inky-dark matter, enveloping and swallowing me whole until the dream soured and I broke free from its grasp, continuing my journey in a vast, utter nothingness. _

_None of it made sense. Was there even any sense in dreams at all?_

* * *

><p><em><span>Chapter 2:<span>_"**N**evertheless, That's What Binds Us Together."

I couldn't think straight; reasoning with myself was out of the question.

_Just what had happened to me?_

The nonsensical dream was exactly what I felt like—being pulled apart from the inside by a dark poisonous cloud. The passing of time and the perception of space didn't matter. It was the closest thing to an out-of-body experience I'd ever get.  
>Throbbing pains shot across my body, and I could barely move. I knew I wasn't at the plateau anymore; I seemed to be lying on a soft bed with clean sheets, and people were looking over me. There was an aura of anxiety among them, as if there was something wrong. I could barely discern their shapes—tall figures, intimidating yet somewhat protective, in an odd sense.<p>

And then the voices, in hushed, worrying tones, as if I had been something important—segments of conversations that made no sense without the context, the commotion of others, nursing for me, and trying to keep everything quiet. Not unlike the dream there was one voice that stood out to me the most—a strong male voice, calm and reassuring.

Gradually, in and out of consciousness I began to grow aware of my surroundings. Directly across the bed I lay in there was a medicine cabinet and a mirror connected to a desk strewn with papers and files. To the right was a window with the curtains closed to filter out light, and to the left was a doorway that was constantly letting people in and out. Situated in the corner was a chair that, at any time, always had someone sitting in it and monitoring me, and a nightstand with a tray of food that was, presumably, for me when I could take it.

I recognized the man from that night who had rescued me, who spent most of his time in the corner chair, conversing with another soldier wearing armor and carrying a polearm, whom I didn't know. He looked official and intimidating, as if there was a certain uneasiness among the other man because he was many ranks above him. After what felt like a while, I opened my eyes a quarter of the way and saw them arguing with each other.

"What? You want me to train him?"

"Who else could have a higher success rate than you?" The man in armor replied. "You've done it before, and you can do it again."

"But still…there's that possibility. What if he isn't…Is that what you think I can do? Help the helpless? Save the unsaveable and take care of all the shit you're too damn good for handling on your own?"

"The decision isn't yours. We've lost this planet and it can be _your_ fault that you didn't bother to recruit any new soldiers."

"Well, hey, better late than never, right? At least I found him and killed that demon beast before it was too late."

"You have it wrong. It's 'better now or never'. And just to clarify—there is _nothing_ of worth left here. So stop trying to save it! You can either give it up and surrender now—or go and die fighting. That's the only decision you're entitled to."

The last thing I heard from them was the sound of angered yelling and the slamming of the door before the room became still.

The next time I woke up I felt oddly rested, but still incredibly weak. My eyes fluttered open and for the first time, I saw the soldier who had rescued me the night before up close. When I had awoken fully, I sat up and felt a jolt of pain in my back. Barely able to turn around, I strained my eyes and forced myself to look at the one who had been watching me, sitting in the corner.

"Um…sir?" I croaked.

The man stood up and walked to the bedside, a wry expression on his face. "Hey, no need to be formal. I've got enough people calling me that already."  
>He sat down in another chair not far from the corner beside me. "So you're awake. Finally. It's been…I dunno, a day and a half since you came here, maybe."<p>

_A day, huh...not as long as I'd expected. _"But more importantly…where am I? " I asked. "And who are you…and everyone else that was here?"

"Whoah, slow down, kid! Give us some time. We're confused, too. Why don't you eat something? I'm sure you must be starving."

He handed me an opened can of soup from the tray on the bedside table, and I downed it in one gulp. I was expecting him to comment on my rude manners, but he kept his mouth shut and just smiled in my direction, as if he was preparing to say something.

"Hey, what's your name?" he asked when I was done. "It'd be a pain for me to keep on calling you 'kid'."

_My name?_ Oddly enough, it was something I had never put much thought into, and since I kept a distance from most people, I hardly had a use for it, anyway. I rarely ever felt the need to identify myself with anything as trivial as a name.

"I'm…_**Meta**_," I said firmly. "How about you?"

The man laughed nervously, but clearly not at what I had said. "Heh. That's got to be the most awkward question to ask someone, right? No matter what they say I'm never going to get over it. It's just…kind of hard for me to ask that."

He picked up his cup of tea from the bedstand and drank deeply from it, trying to swallow down the tension.

"Right...Listen, I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better hear it."

He paused again.

"I'm…Jecra."

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" said a voice near the window.  
>A man of my species dressed in full combat armor, different than the one I had seen when I had last been awake, strode over towards the bedside. The metal plates of his armor shone like gold, and on his left shoulder plate was a star-shaped emblem like the one I carried with me. He wore a helmet with a green plume affixed to it and a slit for his eyes permanently etched into what looked like an angry expression. Noticing that I seemed scared, he comfortingly took off his helmet to acknowledge that I had been intimidated by his appearance.<p>

"Welcome, Meta," he said, extending out a gauntleted hand. "We have been awaiting your prescence. But first, I should introduce myself. You may call me Sir Arthur. "

Immediately at the mention of his name I sat up straighter in the bed. "Are you…King Arthur the Star Warrior, by any chance?" I stammered, suddenly remembering the legend I'd heard the night before all of this had happened.

"Yes, I am a Star Warrior…but I must admit—I am not a king."

I leaned forward as best as I could to shake Sir Arthur's hand. In it I had felt power, all of a sudden—this pulsating feeling that seemed to have come from him. There was this fierceness in his voice—and yet, right at the same moment, an ardent compassion and maybe even empathy.

Just then the door opened and in came several new faces, some wearing armor and others just regular clothes. It was obvious that they had been called from their duties and sent to see me. But what had been so special about my arrival? I wasn't really sure about that yet.

I felt the gaze of many eyes, and suddenly found myself at the criticism of soldiers I didn't even know. A few hoarse whispers soon became an uproar that had the whole room participating, with people yelling over each other and no one the wiser.

One of them, a soldier with a helmet that made him resemble a cow, was the first to shout, breaking through the small crowd. He was panting, obviously because he had rushed from his matters to this place.

"I came because I heard we got a new recruit. And you show us a bed-ridden little kid with no experience? What…?"

Almost like a riot filled with mob mentality, others followed in suit.

" …The hell? Are we really desperate enough to drag kids into this war?"

"What is the meaning of this, sir? Where is the honor in this situation?"

"Hey, you two!" Cut in a a tall woman with a shield strapped to her arm. "At least wait until this gets solved. If it ends up playin' out well then it might as well work!"

"**Cut it out!**" Jecra yelled in frustration.

For the short moment he won when there was finally some quiet, he quickly said, "Guys, meet Meta. Meta, meet the soldiers of the GSA."

"Where's your respect?" He snapped, returning to his angered state. "Can't you see that there's a new recruit here? He's never seen the army before and out of all the days you had you object me, you pick a day to do it _right in front of our new soldier?_"

"Yeah, but..." The soldier with the oddly-shaped helmet objected again.

"I said **cut it out,** Palamedes. You sorry lot...just go. You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Especially **you. **I swear, when we train this afternoon, you are in for the _mother_ of all lectures."

The soldier called Palamedes shrank back in fear and ran away along with the rest of the soldiers, slamming the door behind him and leaving the rest of us alone in the room.

Jecra sighed and shook his head."Well, how's that for a warm welcome, huh?"

"Wha...What was that all about?"

"Damned new soldiers. Haven't properly trained them yet and all they're good for is barging in and ruining our reputation. Which reminds me, I should probably start telling you about why you're here."

I turned to Sir Arthur, who was still maintaining his ever-calm position by the window. He had said nothing during the whole calamity, even after the soldiers had been so disrespectful. I had barely noticed him until now, and he came over, placing his helmet back on with its visor open so I could see his expression.

"I am sorry about that, Meta. Are you all right? You must be very confused right now. We understand."

I sat still for a little while before I nodded. Of course I was confused; I had more questions than I'd ever had in my life.

"Here, then let us start from the very beginning. Jecra said that when you were found, you were carrying this with you, yes?"

From the corner of my eye I could see Jecra flinch at the mention of his name, but Sir Arthur glanced at him and nodded before picking up a golden metal star from the bedstand—_my_ golden metal star. "That belongs to me," I said. "Was I not supposed to take it here?"

"No...it's fine. However, this object may be of more worth than you think."

Sir Arthur handed it back to me and I watched him gently lay it in my bandaged hands. "Now Meta, may I ask you something?"

I nodded again.

"...Have you ever heard the Legend of the Star Warriors?"

_Legends!_ I almost sprung up to my feet, stopped only by the pain in my backside. "You mean...the legendary soldiers who fought nightmares? And their power that came from the stars themselves?"

Sir Arthur smiled knowingly. "Good, good! So you already know half of what we're going to tell you about. As well as half of the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean, Meta...is that _those legends are true_."

"What's more," Jecra continued, "Is that we are the ones who are meant to live them out. _We_ are the legend that they speak of. You stand in the midst of the Galaxy Soldier Army, made of the Star Warriors and mortal men willing to fight for the greater good. Sir Arthur is a Star Warrior, and so am I, along with most of the soldiers you, er, just saw. And, because of that star you're holding, _so are you._"

_Me? A Star Warrior...but how? _I began to panic and my thoughts of dissent began to bubble out."But why me—what makes _me_ special? Out of all the people in the world, why did _I _have to be chosen? Why did _I _have to be forced to give up everything in life as I knew of it? What will _I _ever get from this?"

"It is not a conscious choice, Meta," Sir Arthur consoled. "Rather, the choice is not in who you are, but what you choose to do about it."

"But...I can't fight! I've never even held a weapon in my life! How am I supposed to defend the universe if I can't even defend myself?"

Jecra laughed and gave me a look, as if I was asking for trouble. "Let's face it, did you even want the life you had before? It's like what Arthur said. Most of us are here because our circumstances brought us. Some of us are here to get back at the world that rejected us. Many more are here to stand up against our enemies with the power we have in ways that we'll never have imagined were possible. Each of us are different, and that's why we often disagree. But we all share a common goal, and _**nevertheless, that's what binds us together."**_

The Star Warrior crossed his arms behind his head and smiled at Sir Arthur. "Well then, Arthur, I can take him from here. How about we go for a little walk to stretch your legs, Meta? Then you can ask me all the questions you want."

Sir Arthur left the room with a salute to his comrade and left the two of us staring at each other in silence.

"...Can you walk?" He finally asked.

"Ugh..." My back was still sore, and the bandages around my hands made them stiff and unwieldly. I could barely move my body, but I had just enough energy to pull myself upright into a sitting position. From here I kicked off the bedsheets, already short of breath.

"Not bad. There's no hurry, Meta. Take your time...we could even push you around in a wheelchair if you'd like."

"...No." For a supposed leader of sorts, Jecra was rather condescending. That irked me, but I tried not to show it. As much as I tried to force myself out of the bed, I couldn't bring myself to, and I ended up surrendering to the pain by sinking back down into the pillows. "I...I can't walk."

"So much for that plan, then. Oh well, we'll do something else. I really wanted to show you around, though. We'll do that when you're better, is that all right?"

Something in what he'd said annoyed me—I couldn't exactly put my finger on it, but it was still there, and it left me with an unsettled feeling. It wasn't the tone or the way he announced it, and it wasn't how he was so condescending, either. It was a jarring contrast—yes, that was it—from Sir Arthur's thorough step-by-step guidance, never allowing me to do anything I didn't want to do—to Jecra's mindless assignment of tasks I ought to do.

As a force of reserved habit, I was never one to admit my emotions in fear of having them exploited, so I pretended to feel ill. If I had been any good at faking facial expressions, I would have struck a convincing look of pain to complete the facade, and then judge Jecra's reaction to mine.

...He seemed to believe it, for the most part. Being withdrawn from people in general, I wasn't very good at dealing with them, but it didn't mean that I should turn down a chance of experimenting this kind of interaction.

"Well, Mety, if you're this tired, I'm not gonna bother you. Here, I'll let you rest for a while, okay? There's a red button on the wall behind you and you can push it if you need any help. Give us a call when you're feeling better, mmkay?"

I pretended to be on the verge of falling asleep, deliberately not responding to anything he'd said. After waiting a few moments, with my breath controlled carefully, he got up and left, muttering something about kids being so unpredictable before he exited and locked the door with a _click_.

I had the room to only me, myself, and my thoughts now. It was the way I liked it. No awkward encounters with people, no long-winded explanations that I didn't accept or fully understand. At the very slightest, I felt a tinge of regret for not being able to walk with Jecra—that way, more of my questions would have been answered and I wouldn't have to force myself to come up with all sorts of theories as to where I was being kept and if I was being held as a prisoner or not.  
>It could have just been the stress of people watching me, but for some reason, after they all left me alone, I started to gain some of my strength back. I tested my arms and feet again, and they cooperated with my movements a little better. My feet were fine, but my bruised hands and backside still needed time to recover.<p>

I felt a little cold after kicking off the sheets, and when I managed to roll over and retrieve the edge of the fabric, I noticed that there was still some food on the bedside table. There was another opened can of soup, a piece of bread, and a metal tea flask on the tray. Jecra had forgotten to take his cup of tea with him, and it was quickly getting cold. It was difficult to move without hurting anything in my back, but I waddled over to the tray using the little energy I'd accumulated. I downed the bread first and washed it down with a second can of soup. It had opened my appetite slightly, and my stomach soon craved for more. Then the metal flask caught my eye, and I spilled some of the lukewarm tea on the bedsheets when I poured some into the soup can. The tea was good, more fragrant and flavorful than the kind I was used to drinking back home. It was a habit I'd gotten into on most cold winter days—I'd wash down some of my thoughts with a cup whenever I could get ahold of some mint leaves. It calmed me down a little bit, as I planned what I would do next.

Regardless of what they'd said, it still felt like I was being held as their prisoner. Jecra had even locked the door for good measure. Was it because he was afraid that I would escape? No, there would be no reason for me to—he knew I was weak, and even if I did get up on my feet, I didn't have a place to go. I reasoned that he was taking an extra precaution in case that other soldier, Palamedes, decided to pay me an unwarranted visit.

Out of curiosity, I forced myself out of bed with the intent of exploring the room. The overwhelming urge to find out where I was had been far greater than my pain. Step by step, I made my way to the window and stood tiptoed, barely reaching the windowsill.  
>When I pulled back the curtains to peer outside, the sight had been one to behold.<p>

The plateau Jecra had found me at a day and a half before was nowhere in sight. I was on the top floor of a two-story building, overlooking a circle of many smaller ones that lay at the base of a mountain. Some of them had been left in various states of dilapidation, others looked like they had been recently built or repaired. A huge metal-reinforced wall enclosed the area, which must've been at least half a mile across. No wonder why the soldiers had looked so out of breath when I'd last seen them. They probably had to run across the entire complex and up a flight of stairs or so.

Looking closer, I found that at the doorway of every building or tent, there was a star-shaped emblem hanging above each entrance. From this I knew that I was really among the Star Warriors—who else would put so much care into hanging stars everywhere? As if wearing one wasn't enough, did the buildings really have to bear them as well?  
>Perhaps the thing that stood out to me the most wasn't how surprisingly large the development was—it was what lay behind the mountain. From my angle, I couldn't see exactly what it was, but it looked like it was made of metal...a skyscraper, perhaps. But why would there be a skyscraper in the middle of such a barren place?<p>

I decided to leave the questions to be answered when Jecra returned. I wondered what he was doing right now—seeing that it was already afternoon, he was probably punishing Palamedes for his misconduct. He'd never specified exactly when he'd come back, but it would have been better if he came back several hours later instead of several minutes later. Being exposed to interaction with so many people was still quite nerve-wracking; I hoped to get used to it as soon as possible.

To fill in the time I had to myself, there was no better thing to do than rest. There was no reason to rush people in again by pushing the button that would alert someone to come to my aid, and I'd only recover slower if there were people watching me. I crawled back to the bed, eased myself up and dove into the covers, absorbing the scenes of the world outside the window.

Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Demon Beast attack! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!"<strong>_

I awoke to a start with the sound of a blaring klaxon and that warning shouted over an intercom system. Groggily, I shook off the blanket and groaned, mourning the loss of my deep sleep.  
>The door burst open and Jecra ran in, clothed in full combat armor the way 'd met him. There was panic in his voice, and he looked like he'd just sprinted the length of the entire complex to warn me.<p>

"Meta! Get your Warp Star and come with me!"

"My...what?" I muttered, still rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"The golden metal star! Come _on,_ we don't have time to waste asking questions! Let's go!"

I rolled out of bed and grabbed the Warp Star, he had called it, on the bedstand, and willed myself to stand upright as fast as possible. Quickly he seized my arm in a death grip, not even noticing the bandages that were still wrapped around them, and pulled me forcefully out of the room.

It took every fragment of my being to pull myself together as Jecra sprinted out the door with me in tow, down a flight of stairs with the plaster peeling away, leaping down the steps three at a time. My body went limp as he dragged me down to the first floor, panting.

The stairs had opened up to a lobby, with green wallpaper adorning the walls-fitting for an infirmary or hospital ward, but there was no secretary at the front desk. The whole place carried an eerie feeling, the way I'd imagined all hospitals would, but it was overlooked in the overwhelming rush.

"Stand back," he said, unsheathing his sword. "I'll take care of this. You stay in!"

Before I could object, Jecra left the building with a battle cry, ready to attack the intruder.

I peered out the cross-shaped window, which marked it as the door to the infirmary. Outside a few of the soldiers I'd seen had assembled, holding their weapons and shields at ready. They were ready to fight...but there was no monster.

At least from my angle...there was no monster. The curiosity overtook me as I stepped outside to catch my first true glimpse of the real world and find the real reason for battle.

The tall metal wall surrounding the camp had sprung to action, creating a bubble-shaped barrier around the sky above us. I now understood its purpose—not only did it serve as a gate on land, it was a force-field as well. Above the barrier, dragon-like monsters circled and dived at us, stopped to a halt by a horrible zap of electricity. Though only by a small margin, the camp remained safe...for now.

"Look, over there!" Palamedes pointed his spiked weapon at me. "Something's gone past the barrier!"

Confused at why Palamedes had pointed at me, I turned around and saw a pair of gaping jaws right at the point above my head. I heard the soldiers gasp behind me, the sound of a gun loading and trying to take aim...but it would have been a close shot. Even if the gun was in the hands of a trained sniper, he couldn't have shot the dragon without killing me as I stood in front of it.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I could see every individual tooth in the monster's jaws, each glistening and sharpened to a point like a mouth full of cutting knives. And it came closer...closer...

...Until Jecra leapt up and bashed his shield into its side.

I fell back, stunned, as the warrior wrestled the beast down, crashing into the wall of the infirmary building in a clash of fangs and steel. Talon met sword as Jecra fought for control, luring the dragon away from his soldiers so as not to injure them in the battle. The monster swung at him, and he cut back, cleaving through the entire length of its underbelly. Dark blood spewed out of the fresh wound, staining his armor and the ground around him, but he paid no heed to it.

I watched in horror as the dragon roared in pain, rearing up on its hind legs and thrashing its tail blindly at whatever stood in its way.

_**"Get away! Don't come near me!" **_Jecra shouted at his soldiers over the dragon's bloodcurling roars, but they didn't move an inch. They stood petrified in horror, looking up expectantly at their leader to deliver the final blow to put the beast out of its misery, and at the same time, dreading the oncoming violent, brutal beatdown that they were anticipating.

Somehow, he knew they were watching, and a sudden shame weighed down his shoulders. He loosened his grip on his shield, the point of his sword lowering to scrape the dirt. His armor looked heavier, the weight of his responsibility sagging down on his pauldrons. Even the star pinned to his breastplate seemed to lose its glow for that one moment.

The soldiers under his command were new to the world of war, and I was only slightly more inexperienced than they were. Violence was something that we didn't deserve to see at this stage. Especially now, when we were only blank slates. Whatever we saw now—absorbed now—in our undeveloped states...would remain with us forever.

But it was inevitable. A soldier couldn't win a war without fighting, without becoming jaded, without becoming immune to the brutality before him.

_"I...I'm sorry."_

And with those words, Jecra leapt up and beheaded the dragon.

* * *

><p>It was a clean cut, as far as neck wounds could go. Jecra had not severed any vertebrae; he had only cut through a gap in between the bones, hard and deep enough to detach the beast's head.<p>

By his orders, the dragon was unceremoniously burnt in a pyre, its ashes dumped outside the metal walls of the camp, where they would be dispersed by the wind. There was no funeral procedure for the enemy. Something as trivial as the slaying of a monster, he had said, was nothing worthy of honorable recognition.

_It was part of a day in the life of a soldier_, I thought to myself. _Nothing more. _

Still, the soldiers of his unit had treated it as something special—as an unfamiliar procedure, if anything—and I doubted that they had ever seen anything like it first hand before. Maybe through training, or possibly through instruction...but never as a life-or-death experience.  
>The effect of it on me had been a jarring one, as well—it was rare enough to be within an inch of holding onto your life, but I had the fortune of experiencing it twice within the span of a few days. The thought of those razor-sharp teeth, and nearly being chewed to a pulp between them...it made me shudder.<p>

The morale among the soldiers had dropped to a distinct low, but it mattered more to Jecra to repair his men than to fix the physical damage on the camp that had occured as a result of the attack. No one had said anything, not even after he told us to take care of the beast's remains. In the deadening silence, he said that he needed to tell all of us something in the mess hall, and he led us to a building not far from the infirmary.

The mess hall, I assumed, was where the soldiers congregated to discuss things with each other. Based on what I already knew about the military, I knew that its main purpose was to serve as a dining area for the troops, but here, it had been less formal than what I had been expecting. It was barely even a hall, like the term had only been used out of custom and to describe the current state of the building. Still, the building itself was in better shape than the infirmary, and there were five times as many seats as there were soldiers currently present, the sets of tables and chairs circling a closed-area kitchen. A circular table was the focus of the room, and the soldiers pulled over a few chairs and sat around it.

It was interesting to see the way each individual reacted, varying from being panic-stricken like I was, to an expression that said "I couldn't care less". Most of them had their heads bowed; a few had their arms crossed, as if nothing serious had happened. At least no one had their face buried in their hands, sobbing their eyes out.

Palamedes had been the first to break the silence. He took off his cow-like helmet, slamming it on the table as if he was trying to prove a point.

_"What...in hell...just happened?"_

The other soldiers and I looked at him, but he continued to stare at the knots in the table's wooden surface. Without even looking up he pointed at Jecra across the table, not in a boisterous act of defiance, but with the honest confusion of a person looking for answers.

"Yesterday...you scolded me for ruining our reputation to that new Meta kid. And now...you've done it in a way even more than what I did the day before. Why? Why would you tell me not to do something and turn your back to do the same exact thing?"

Jecra took off his mask and placed it in his lap. He leaned forward and scanned the faces of his troops, his elbows casually resting on the table, head propped up in one palm.

"You're right, Palamedes...you're right. It is my fault. You _know_ I'm a hypocrite, Pal. I promise things I know I won't be able to fullfill and I still try to keep them, even though I know that I never will. But even so, there are things that need to be done, and I did what I had to do."

He seemed to be satisfied by that answer, and I let him sink back into his seat before I took my turn to ask a question.

"Where's Sir Arthur?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Ha, that's off topic...but anyway, he's away now," Jecra replied. "He left yesterday when you were still asleep, to check on some other new recruits at another Squad far away. And that leaves me with a total of seven soldiers to train on my own without any help."

"Wasn't it...an afternoon, when I last fell asleep?"

"Yeah, you slept straight for another day, Meta."

That brought in a few dry laughs and a faint hope of returning to status quo. "But still," he continued. "You've been with us for almost three days and we still haven't really explained who we are? Damn, what have we been doing all this time?"

"Wasting it," Palamedes volunteered. "While this kid Meta over here sleeps straight through a disaster, and if it weren't for you, he'd be dead by now!"

That made everyone chuckle, and even I knew that he was joking. Still, the fact that we were trying to escape a touchy subject still lingered.

"Jokes aside," said Jecra, "I want you all to know the real reason why we're here. It's not about what I just did...but that's important, too. My plan for today was to welcome Meta to our squad...but obviously, that plan got changed.

"And I know, it's too much to ask for you, but I want you to try your best to put aside what happened today. Sure, it was gruesome...and I won't deny that. But it was the first thing Meta has ever seen among us, and first impressions can kill. For now, I want all of us to put all of those first impressions aside, and just value each other for who we are within. Not just you, Meta. Not just you, Palamedes, and not just me. All of us. Is that too much to ask?"

I shook my head along with everyone else. From here I began to see a human side in Jecra, beyond his condescending words and his joking facade. I felt that despite his efforts to make things less formal, under it was genuine respect for his soldiers. That, in its entirety, was what warranted him _my_ respect.

"But anyway, I want to make it known that this is still an army, and there are rules that apply. You can already tell we're not like most squads, Meta, and I don't blame you for thinking that. But that's what makes us who we are. Welcome to Squad 19, and this is our garrison. You're among the prescence of the stars now, Meta."

Jecra stood up and began to pace around the table, his arms crossed behind his back in an official manner. "Sitting before you," he announced to me, "...are your fellow soldiers. These six soldiers—seven, counting you—are part of a next generation of warriors. In the following weeks...you will train with them. Learn from them. And hopefully, you will get to know who they are." He had walked a full circle around the table, starting from his own empty seat and circling again clockwise, introducing each soldier as he passed them.

"Atelier, the voice of reason. Deneb, the voice of optimism. Vega, the stoic. Palamedes, the cynic. Lamorak, the stubborn. And Pollux, the soldier who upholds honor. These are your comrades, Meta. If anything, they're your family now. And as hard as it may seem, I want you to respect them. That applies for the Squad as well.  
>"Subsequently, Meta, as a part of your initiation into the army, you're expected to do your part too. Therefore...you will begin your training in two days, when you've fully recovered."<p>

Jecra sat back into his chair and eyed the faces of his soldiers once more, resting his gaze on me.

"But until then...the Galaxy Soldier Army welcomes you!"

The soldiers held a round of applause for my initiation, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I was in a place that I truly belonged in. The golden metal star I clutched in my palm gleamed even brighter, and my heart soared with excitement. So many unfamiliar feelings, so many new experiences. And I was sure that there would be many, many more to come.

"Okay, now that's said, how about we all have breakfast, in honor of our newest recruit?"  
>The result was perfect agreement. "Yeah!"<p>

Eventually, the day went on, and I saw what I needed to see in the garrison, and I talked to each soldier except for Palamedes. But no matter what they could do to mask it, or whatever I could do to try and forget it, the memory of Jecra's brutal slaughter of the dragon still remained fresh in my mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: 31/12**

I'll use this note to talk briefly about my plans for this fic. There will be a total of **26** chapters, and most of the content within them has already been outlined. If this story doesn't update often, it means I'm at a loss for words, hopefully not at a loss of ideas.

**Update 3/2/12**: Thanks to an anonymous reviewer, some minor typos have been fixed. Thanks!


	3. The World is Not the Way It Seems

**Author's note: 3/12/12**

To reply to the anonymous reviewer, thank you for the compliment on my characterization. It's something I've worked extra hard on in developing. Since this fic involves a lot of personality stand-ins inserted into canonical characters with no given characteristics, I spent a _tremendous_ amount of effort trying to piece together everything confirmed by canon in order to create something plausible in-universe. This is also a character-drivenstory, in the sense that personal beliefs and moral dissonance among the cast _will_ become a major conflict later on.  
>Speaking of characters, this chapter primarily focuses on character development, in the same way the last chapter focused on exposition. Which means that it'll be present, but driven by an event (like Jecra beheading a dragon in the second chapter—good heavens, that was a such a fun scene to write), so as not to make it bland and over-descriptive.<p>

In my eyes, I found this to be hard and forced due to time constraints, and I hope that doesn't show too much in the final product. This chapter was even harder to write than the first and the second, and after tinkering with it for another week, I'm still not satisfied.  
>There's a little spotlight near the end on Atelier, the aloof and composed soldier. For those of you already familiar with the story, she's not exactly a calm version of a certain later-in-canon female lead or a reskin of her if she was less pragmatic and more respectful. Atelier has her tics as well, but they show up within time.<p>

Content notes: The title, "**T**he World is Not the Way it Seems", was one of the earliest developments I've had to come through the course of writing this story. Of course, the subject matter within it has changed drastically over the years. I considered calling it "**T**he End of the Beginning", simply to be frank about how most of the exposition ends at this point. There will be some swearing near the midpoint of this chapter. Nothing like cluster F-bombs, though.

Anyway, enough of my long ANs. Enjoy, and if you are inclined, you are most definitely welcome to share your thoughts with me. I'm always open to hear what my readers are thinking.

* * *

><p><em>The dreams were back.<em>

No longer was I floating in the void of space; I stood on the same checkerboard of astral proportions that I'd dreamt of many times before. This time, the board was intact, and I could see where the sides of the board ended, the sharp edges spilling over to a vast beyond of colorful blue-green and red nebulae.  
>I stood near the edges of the board, eyeing the patterned black and white squares around me. Carefully placed in their positions were an army of life-sized statues, and right away, the thought struck my mind that they were chess pieces – their features so uncannily familiar it looked like the chessmaster had taken the real soldiers they resembled and petrified them into stone to make his minions on the board.<p>

On my side of the board, I recognized a few of the soldiers I'd met in Squad 19, where they stood as pawns in the front row, along with a few others I didn't yet recognize. At the far corners were the rooks, Jecra and another unknown soldier. Nearing the center were the knights, bishops, the queen, and on the white square, the king – none other than Sir Arthur himself, pointing his sword to the sky in a pose of victory.

I looked to the far side, and looming over the soldier pieces were the legion of demons. They were even larger than life, making the other pieces look small in relativity when compared to them. Their features were grotesque, seemingly realistic enough for them to come to life and jump out at me. Though the pawns might have towered over me, the back row was even higher – in one of the rook's corners stood the machine-monster that Jecra had rescued me from the day we met, with the red glowing cross in its abdomen and its flail cradled at the ready in its hands. Many more monsters that I didn't recognize stood among it, casting their shadows over the board.

I took a step back, and a loud, guttural voice rang out, filling my ears with the sound of maniacal cackling. Turning around a full three-sixty degrees, I looked for the person behind the voice, but found nothing. It was coming from all around me, ringing out from all four sides.

_**"You are here to play the game, I see."**_

I looked up, but saw only the stars among the swirling nebulae. I said nothing.

_"**Very well then. You have played the game of chess before, no?"**_

Not wanting to speak, I nodded. I had a chess set back at home, but no one to play with. Usually I resolved this dilemma by playing with myself, and I had spent many cold nights turning the board and toying away on how to trick myself, my only opponent, into falling for my own traps.  
>But this was different. I had never played chess with another mind than my own before. I would have to take a risk – to attempt something that I knew in theory how to do, but had no experience in putting to action.<p>

_"__**Good,"**_the voice replied. _**"It is a very intellectual game. Each piece moves in a different pattern of formation. The first side to capture the opposing king wins. Essentially, it is the basis of a war constrained into sixty-four black and white squares. The premise may be simple, but the amount of strategy **_**– **_**the Metagame, so to speak **_**– **_**involved in the play is what makes the game interesting."**_

There was a long pause of silence. _Metagame__..._it was a good word to describe the thoughts behind a simple game of chess. Strategy allowed a player to be cunning and on their feet, making them able to deceive their opponent in a fair way within the constraints of the rules.

_**"I move first."**_ The voice boomed, and a bony finger lowered down from the darkness above to move the pawn in front of his king to one of the white squares in the middle of the board.

It was official now. The game had begun.

And the war had begun as well.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3:<span> **"T**he World is Not the Way it Seems..."

Two days.

That was all they had given me to rest my tired body before I began my training, and my first day of grace was already past its halfway point.

I had spent the morning pumping life back into my stiff body and watching the soldiers repair the damage done to the infirmary. The bandages on my hands had come off when I woke up, and I allowed myself some time for my minor wounds to heal. First things first, I had one of the less-dilapidated barracks assigned to me, in an isolated wing of the same building where most of the soldiers spent their nights. I'd felt a little shame in not being able to help the soldiers or even repay the deed that Jecra had done for me the day before, but there wasn't much to help with. I ended up minding my own business, exploring the garrison, and gathering opinions about the people around me.

Shortly before noon, all the work had been finished, and Jecra had personally introduced me to his second-in-command, Atelier. She was the one who'd been described as 'the voice of reason', and I recognized her as the one who had told everyone to quiet down in the infirmary, when I was still bed-ridden and didn't know the names of the Squad's members.

Atelier had mentioned, in her own words, that my first real day was coming, and that she thought she might prepare me for it early. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of getting the way of a soldier beaten into me any earlier, but once she explained the purpose of her request, it was all clear.

The three of us had gone to the garrison's forge, where Atelier served as its blacksmith. Her plan had been to get my body measurements so that she could prepare my armor and have it ready for my training. With the help of Jecra, a clipboard and a tape measure, we had the task done within minutes.

As proof that the Galaxy Soldiers did have a formal procedure, I was issued a standard weapon, a switchblade with a yellow hilt where a knife no longer than the length of my hand pivoted out from. Atelier had given me a brown leather belt with a scabbard to store it in, and I put my Warp Star in with it as well, to save me from the trouble of holding it around all day. After eyeing me over twice, she gave me a thumbs-up and a reassuring word of encouragement to be ready for what was lying ahead. At least now I felt like a soldier-to-be, with the aid of the basic equipment, but I knew that the real predicament was yet to come.

Presently, I ate lunch with the Squad on the same round table in the mess hall. I would never get used to eating among the prescence of others, or just being with people in general. Still, even though I hadn't fully met them, I felt a sense of fellowship among the soldiers that I'd never experienced before. It was another foriegn feeling – the feeling of having friends. No, not friends – brothers. What I felt was something not tied by acquaintance, but by blood. Like if the only place I'd ever belong to was in the company of the Squad. It was weird, unfamiliar...but then again, so was everything I'd done here so far.

As I ate, I thought about the six soldiers sitting around me, and I could now name each one of them. They talked amongst themselves, forming their own small groups of two or three, and they addressed their leader, Jecra, without the hesitation that would have come as a side effect of holding a lower rank. Only I was alone, and no one bothered me because they knew – I liked it this way.

I didn't want to judge, but based on what I had found out about them, I already had developed an opinion of my new comrades. My first day had just been a bad way to start. Even though I had been told to suppress them, impressions meant a lot to me and this one certainly hadn't left a good feeling. I made a mental note to avoid Palamedes, the soldier who had insulted me before he even knew my name. Jecra had given him a personal lecture, which I did not hear, and I was glad I had the pleasure of being spared of it.

Sir Arthur had come across to me as a fatherly figure of sorts, maybe the kind who stood from afar and watched the world go by. Even after he had left, I still yearned for his benign prescence, and it had made me feel welcome. That made sense – it seemed like he could come and go whenever he pleased, and wherever he went, he would be revered. It was as if he seemed to see something that I didn't, that he knew something I wasn't aware of. Quite honestly, the aspect of him that I liked most was his unparalleled respect for others and his capacity as a listener. He was the leader of the whole army, after all...and it was a position that called for great responsibility. Being able to maintain his level of power and retain his consideration of the people under him was quite something. Sir Arthur was a person to look up to, for varied reasons.

It was still hard for me to register the fact that I was now a soldier – rather, a soldier-to-be. Granted, it was to be definitely better than the kind of life I'd led before, but I held onto my doubts. I was covered in a sort of self-denial that rejected the role, even after realizing how the life of a soldier would be better in the long run. That unwillingness of mine shone through the most when Sir Arthur had briefly explained the reason why I had been brought here. For the most part, I felt that this Star Warrior business was just a sense of fulfilling an obligation to whatever higher power that had enlisted us to fight. As for the reason why it had to be me as the chosen in-born warrior and why I had to be put specifically in Squad 19, that was still a mystery.

I had no choice; I knew that I could not turn back and forget everything I knew about Star Warriors and the purpose of the Galaxy Soldier Army altogether. I knew that this was my true place – I belonged here, and I would stay here, not because I wanted to, but because I had to.

* * *

><p>Most of the day droned by quickly without any major events, until it was time for the afternoon training session for the majority of the Squad. I followed them to the center of the complex, and we entered a mostly-empty gymnasium that was literally falling apart at the seams.<p>

That was when it happened – so sudden, yet almost expectedly. I had the disadvantage of no context – I knew what was happening, to some degree, but I did not know the full story behind what was going on – and that was what had made the following all the more shocking to me.

When we were settled, Palamedes threw his shield down and thrust his mace into the floorboards, and the sound of splintered wood echoed through the empty gymnasium.

"What...you call this shit training?" he spat. "I'm here to learn how to fight and all you're doing is throwing this crap at me and making this look like some kind of dumbass game?"

For the first time since I'd arrived, Jecra looked insulted, caught off guard with Palamedes' words. That was a low blow, and something – _everything _– within those words had finally made him snap.

"You've done it, Pal..._Now you've really done it!"_

In a flash, Jecra leaped at him, grabbing him by the collar to lift him up by the nape of his neck, with the entire Squad watching. There was nothing to hide now from me. Out poured the emotions behind the masking words, the wavering reassurance of brotherhood amoung the soldiers I'd looked up to and even revered.

"You _bastard,_ Palamedes..." he chuckled dryly. "Can _you_ do any better? Come on, Pal, _can __**you**_ _do any damn better?_"

Jecra kicked him over to face the Squad, and his panic-filled eyes rested on me as he struggled at the vicelike grip that was choking him. Then, releasing his grasp, he threw the soldier down onto the ground, his gaze fixated on the splintered flooring.

"You have no idea...how hard this is for me." His voice was barely beyond a whisper now. A tinge of guilt passed through us, partly from hitting a sensitive nerve, and the other half from our own ignorance.

"How can I do this alone?" He yelled. "Can you handle this damned position by yourself? With no one to look up to and everyone pressuring _you _to be their hero_? _And even when you do, still, nobody cares about the efforts you've made! Even when I've saved you not just once, but twice – you're still ungrateful! I'm _sick_ and _tired_ of hearing you _bitch_ about how you hate the way I do things – well, y'know what? Let's see _you_ run this Squad without any help, without any support, and without any recognition! Huh? Let's see you do that for once!"

Palamedes stood up, retrieving his mace. He pointed the spiked end of the weapon at Jecra, with the full intention to charge at him.

"Fine...I will! And the first thing I'm gonna do as the leader of this Squad is have you fired from duty!"

"What, you dare challenge my authority? You wanna fight, Pal? Fine, then, fight! Come at me with all you're worth!"

They were just about to attack each other when someone sprang in and forced the two away from each other.

"Jecra...STOP!"

The shrill voice belonged to none but Atelier. Holding a firm stance, she had the flat surface of her shield pressed into Palamedes' chest, her free hand keeping her at a safe distance from her leader.

"Why?" she pleaded. "Why must you betray the words of the Stars? If this is really our problem then we can always ask Sir Arthur whenever he's coming back to get Sir Nonsurat to set us straight..."

Again he flinched at the mention of his name, more so than ever before. "All right, you sons of bitches want Nonsurat? Fine, I'll get you Nonsurat! Hell, in fact, we'll get on a ship and fly to him _right now! _Like hell Arthur's gonna come to us. We're coming to him! And that's assuming that we don't all _kill each other _on the way there!"

Jecra let out his breath and his head hung low with shame, the way it had the day before when he killed the beast in front of our eyes. _This was wrong, _wrong on so many levels but he had neither the words or the patience to explain why.

"I need some time to myself to think; don't bother me. You are all dismissed."

* * *

><p>Jecra didn't show up for dinner that night.<br>I wondered why.

Though the source of the tension was gone, part of it still remained from the fear of what it would be like when he returned. And since a house divided could not stand, the immediate backup duty of leadership was given to Atelier, who did her best to return the atmosphere back to status quo.  
>She approached me when I was brooding, as I was taking my own time to bring myself together. Little did she know about how she'd just hijacked my train of thought.<p>

Her message was simple; she'd made an effort to be honest and thoughtful enough to repair the damage in a constructive way. She told me that she'd given the soldiers a night off due to the lack of instruction, and that asking them to do anything more would have been an unreasonable call. Because of this, she offered to have me spend the night with her at the forge, where she could hopefully patch up the rest of my doubts.

After finishing dinner at the mess hall with the other soldiers, I agreed to keep my appointment with Atelier, meeting her at the forge room where I found her working on my armor.

"How much longer until you're done?" I asked.

Atelier sighed. "A while. It takes time to make quality work, you know. But definitely quicker than making something from scratch."

The tall woman had taken off most of her armor and put it on a dress form next to many others, displaying works in progress, whole finished suits of armor, and many other pieces that needed to be fixed from battle damage. Instead she wore protective gear, an apron and gloves made of a thick flame retardant material and a welding mask specialized for her job, different than the one she normally wore. Under the mask her hair was swept back into a high ponytail, kept away from her face with a headband that had her star pinned to the front.

I sat directly across from her on the far side of the forge room. From the anvil and her workspace, a black column of smoke rose through the air, disappearing through a ventilation shaft on the ceiling. The only lights in the room were from the tools she was using and a furnace burning behind her. It was lit adequately enough for her to work, and sparks flew as she set to work on my armor. Occasionally she'd dip it into water to cool it down, measure it carefully, and hammer away at it again in dissatisfaction.

"Normally, we don't let the newbies in here much," she said over the clamor of her work. "But I guess for you, we're making even more exceptions."

"Thank you for letting me stay here. I needed some time away from Jecra."

Atelier nodded sympathetically. "I hear you, kiddo." She set her work down for the moment and patted the work bench beside her. "Hey, Meta! Why don't you sit here for now? Better than being in the dark, for sure."

I did as she said and took my place right where the light of the furnace began to fade out.

"Je—I mean, that guy…" she said carefully when I sat down. "If you haven't yet noticed…he's crazy."

"I noticed."

I was curious, all of a sudden, of how this was possible. Even under what was seemingly an illegitimate leadership, the Galaxy Soldier Army was still able to function the way it did. And so the questions poured out.

"Why is it so hard for you and the other soldiers to say the name 'Jecra'? It's not as if it's hard to pronounce, and every time you call Jecra by his name, he gets tense. Why is that?"

Atelier laughed and pulled off her gloves. "Oh, he just doesn't like being referred to by his name. It's just one of his many quirks. Trust me, I've learned it the hard way. It's the best way to make him listen to you, if you ever need that, by the way."

"But that still doesn't explain why."

"Yeah, I know. It's definitely complicated, I can tell you that. I've been with him for quite the while – longer than anyone else right here, in fact—and he's never actually told us. Come to think of it, he might've, once, but I never caught the exact details. I do remember it was 'cause of something quite personal to him, or some other strange reason. He's always had people refuse to call him 'Sir', too, even though he deserves that rank. I'm not sure, but here's hope to that it might clear out somethin' for you."

Silence blanketed the forge room and for a while it was just the two of us and the crackle of the warm fire. It was Atelier that decided to lighten up the room with small talk.

"You're not too shaken up after that episode this afternoon...right? I did what I could to stop it."

I hesitated a little. There was no denying it; of course, I was disturbed by it.

"Does 'he' always act like this? You know…"

"Impulsive, eh? Not always. In all honesty, in these recent days he's been acting exactly the opposite of what he normally is like. But he's quite the interesting character. To me, probably the most interesting person I've ever met. There's just that one thing about him that you need to see happening inside of him, in person, to get to know him face to face. And as for his character on normal circumstances…at any rate, he isn't soft. Forgiving, but definitely not soft. Demanding, yet not 'tough' enough to make you give up. Gentle, but never yielding."

"That's rather vague."

Atelier patted me on the back. "Don't worry. It'll all make sense soon. He isn't the laid-back hypocritical piece of work you might think he is. He won't give you a very hard time, but it's not saying he won't challenge you or make you take it easy. Tell you what – I was trained with him, but that was a long time ago – before anything like Squads or those nasty demon attacks ever came to be."

"Did he ever...have an outburst like that, the way he did this afternoon?"

"Well…let's just say it wasn't without good reason. Yesterday, that was just an isolated case, and today has reasons of its own. He's been going through a lot of stress recently, our leader – in a lot of ways, he's just as new to this as most of us are. "

"Or maybe he was just having a really bad day."

Atelier sighed in agreement. "Meta, let me tell ya – I know you've heard this maxim countless times before, but don't judge a book by its cover."

"What does that mean? I've never heard of it." And that was true – I was never one good with interpreting idioms.

"Really, you've never heard that one before? It means that you shouldn't judge a person before you get to know who they are. Likewise, it's never good to start with a bad impression of someone, because that first impression may never always be right. And that has its roots back to the talk we got yesterday."

I nodded. It did make sense, after all. I tried to imagine how a book could only be weighed in its worth after the story within it was revealed.

There was one question that still nagged at me, and admittedly, it was easier asking Atelier these things than asking anyone else. That's what I liked about her – Atelier wasn't neutral in the sense that she was a person who took no sides. She had the character to support something, but only what was righteous. In that way, she was kind of like Jecra – she'd tell you the truth in all of its hard honesty, whether you were on her side or not.

"Who's Nonsurat? The person you were talking about earlier – who is he?"

"Haha, funny you ask...because contrary to popular belief right here, the Galaxy Soldier Army has a form of organization! Say, Meta, did they ever have you learn about military rankings where you came from?"

I nodded again. No one had ever made me learn anything, but I had known it nonetheless. "I know about them, a little bit."

"Well, if you start from the very top of the pyramid and work your way down, Sir Arthur's the General of the entire army. Then, directly beneath him are three divisions that make up the soldiers of the GSA, where the units break down to their smallest points, to numbered squads like ours. There are three Lieutenant Generals – Sir Dragato, Sir Falspar, and Sir Nonsurat – each in charge of their own division. Nonsurat is perhaps the most notorious of them all."

"How so?"

"Let's just say...the method to his madness is beating it into you until you become strong enough. Again, I can't say much about it...but, to put it as an understatement, Jecra doesn't exactly have the _best_ relationship with Nonsurat."

She sat up and rummaged around her desk to gather the things she had been working on and put them into a padded box.

"Hope that's made you loosen up a bit. I reckon that we're going to leave this place tomorrow, first thing in the morning. There's no sense in dawdling right here when no work's getting done at all."

"Thanks," I replied, grateful to be back on my feet again.

"Tell ya what – you're a good kid, Meta. You listen well and you're not afraid of what people think. That's the mark of a good soldier, right there – you need to listen first and then do your thing. Oh, and questions aren't a bad thing at all – it's really a mentor's fault if he discourages 'em. Sorry for dragging this night out, I didn't mean to lecture you."

"Oh, I don't mind. It was a pleasure."

She led me to the door and held it open for me when I stepped out.

"It's pretty dark outside now, do you want me to take you to the barracks?"

"No, but thank you anyway."

"You sure? Well then, best be on your way. And don't forget to report back to me after you're all done with your training. Then you can come and spar with me. I'll be waitin'. And then we can test out how good my armor is for real. See you around, Meta."

And with a final goodbye and a word of encouragement, Atelier sent me on my way.

* * *

><p>The time by myself was short-lived when I saw Jecra sitting alone on top of a stack of crates near the center of the garrison.<p>

There was no mistake; it was him, looking up at the stars as if he was a lost wanderer seeking guidance after falling astray. My stride broke into a run and I appeared beside him, motioning for him to notice me. He looked at me for half an instant, then turned back to the stars while acknowledging my prescence. He didn't even maintain eye contact as he spoke without introduction.

"Look at the stars. They don't get torn down by problems like we do. And even when all the predicaments of the world burn us down and fade away, up there, the stars will keep spinning, still spinning...on their courses in the heavens."

There was nothing I could have said to build the moment. The sky was so clear that day, as if our own isolation from the pollution of the world had made the view of the stars even clearer.

"I...I'm sorry, Sir."

He looked at me in pain, like the word 'Sir' was caustic in his ears.

"No, Meta..._I'm_ sorry."

Jecra shifted his weight on the stack of crates, and I climbed up to the highest box to sit beside him, my eyes, too, craning up to see the stars. As much as I tried, I could not empathize with the man, for I was new and inexperienced, more so than anyone else in the Squad. But I had the benefit of thought, the ability to dream and stretch my imagination. I felt only sympathy this way, not empathy – and in this way, at this moment, it was not truly genuine.

"Meta." Jecra's eyes shone with a faraway look. "_There's something I think you should know about me."_

He ran his finger down the golden chain hung around his neck, where the pendant hung with its eight-pointed starburst design and gleamed brightly in the starlight. I looked at its design, each of the eight raised points, the blue oval-shaped gemstone set in the center. It was the same design etched into his shield, which I'd noticed the day we met.

"Really...you're a lot like me, to tell you the truth..." he began.  
>"When I was a boy...I knew nothing of the stars. Nothing had mattered to me. Nothing put warmth in me, and nothing was worth protecting. But, each night, the stars were up there, and no matter what happened to me, they would always be there. And I felt that they were watching over me, guiding my lifelessness and bringing me hope. I felt a connection...yet I did not know what it was.<p>

"That was when Nightmare struck – at the peak of my doubt and obliviousness. It was Sir Arthur who reached out to me, showed me the world I'd yearned to see but never went to seek. It was Arthur who brought me into the Kingdom of the Stars, into the war that was always being fought around me, but had always been invisible to my eyes.  
>"At first, I deeply detested it. More so than you did, more so than Palamedes did. Boy, was I enraged! I wanted to run away from the Army and never come back, to leave and forget about everything I'd learned about the Star Warriors and Nightmare and the whole reason why we fight. But I couldn't do it; Arthur stopped me before I could. He told me that I no longer had a home to go back to. Told me that I had reached a point of no return, and crossed an irreversible threshold that would never make life the same.<p>

"That hurt me...a lot. But then he said, that as far as I was concerned, this was my home now – in the GSA, in the Kingdom of the Stars. And after that, it felt like the world had opened up to me. Not the world on its visible level. But the colors were more vibrant. My feelings were controlled and even more passionate. And most of all...I knew that whatever I fought for would not be fought for in vain.

"And that's why...that's why I've tried so hard. Too hard that I even forgot the reason why I'm here, Meta. I wanted with everything in my heart to pass on my own realization that there is more to life than this – more to the world than what is just seen with our eyes. That _**the world is not the way it seems **_**– **and that there is something worth fighting for, something far, far greater in store for each and every one of us. We may not see it at first, but it's always there. It's like how the stars disappear in the day. In reality, they are always, there, always spinning above us, but in the day, their light is blinded by the light of our own star.

"And that's why it hurts, too. I feel like I've failed to do my job as a leader. Yes, 'cause I've done a bad job as a mentor...but there's more to it than just that. I was looking for recognition, Meta. You heard me yell about it, all right. But that's missing the point entirely. We fight, not for ourselves or our own ambitions, but because we know what we're doing is right. The depths of space are our battlefield, the freedom in the stars beyond is our hope. And it's true – the walls of this universe are constantly expanding, and so are the borders of our battlefield. That's where we come in. We shed light where light can't reach, to the far corners of space where people are waiting to be liberated."

A gap in the clouds near the horizon gave way to another sight to behold. The glittering, milky band of the galaxy's arms cut through the cover of the clouds, circling the sky like a ribbon.

"I've done what I could to do my part," he continued. "But I have only sullied the reputation of the Galaxy Soldier Army. For that, I have no choice but to take the blame for what I've caused. And what I wish for, now, is that I may use this life only to bring others into the same light that that lit up mine on that day, long ago."

He turned and looked at me straight in the eyes, as if trying to root his words into my heart and ingrain them in my memory.

"Listen – this is a promise I know I can't break. _**I want to be remembered not for who I am, or anything of my own merit—but simply for the cause that I stand for. **_Mark my words, Meta...we _will_ come back together. We _will _bring forth what is right, and only what is right. And until then...the stars will always be up there, spinning in the sky, for us to explore."

With one last look, Jecra clasped his hands together and pulled himself down from the crates.

"Well then, Meta, good night. That's that. We'll get some sleep now. And tomorrow, we'll start over again on another planet – so that this time, we'll do it right."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: 312/12**

**...**Heh. Does anyone even read these things anymore?  
>There's a lot of details and foreshadowing that I've tried my best to include in the past three chapters, especially the stuff about the organization of the GSA—I've never been a military buff, but I know that my organization system is highly flawed. I realize that I'm one of the first fic writers to ever take a stab at including that detail, so I figured I'd just make the 'illegitimate leadership' (as Meta himself describes it) a plot point later on.<p>

A couple interesting things about this chapter:  
>1) From the prologue, the bolded word '<strong>Metagame'<strong> used to be a working title for this fic. Yes, I went through many titles for this project before I eventually settled on naming it 'Stardust Utopia'. 'Metagame' was one of these titles.  
>2) Jecra's entire monologue is extremely significant. It speaks not of just his own feelings, but of the outcomes of his hopes as well. I wish it didn't have to come out as forcedly as this—it's one of the most important scenes in my exposition, and I hope it's not overshadowed by the lack of fluency in the events preceding it.<p>

Thanks to all who made it this far. May the Stars be with you. ~✪


	4. Hope in Something Small and yet Unseen

✪ **Author's Note: 3/22/12**

Content notes: This is the first chapter where I try to do split-perspective narration. I try to separate this by using line breaks to mark where each narration perspective/POV ends. I realized that I ended up writing myself into a corner through the past few chapters, and I couldn't hide the explanations any longer. This made the fourth chapter even harder to write than the ones before it.  
>This update is a looong one that I nearly quit from trying to work on, but it compensates for my inactivity.<br>**3/27/12**: This is really an option that's up to you, but if you want the full atmospheric effect, I suggest you listen to the song _"Ghostly Eyes"_ by the artist _N-Tone _while reading this chapter. It's nothing much, just calming, ambient instrumental background music that really fits the mood of stargazing, which shows up twice below. I can't post a link, but the search query "N-Tone Ghostly Eyes" into Youtube should bring up this song as the first result.  
>Reason why I included this is because I'm an emotional writer who feeds off atmospheric effects. If I didn't have Stardust Utopia going, I would be writing songfics of some kind, and I might incorporate that into this story as well. So, if you please, look up the song, put it on repeat, sit back, relax and enjoy this chapter the way I enjoyed writing it – with music.<p>

* * *

><p>...They say that idle hands are the devil's workshop.<p>

However, the devil himself is always idle.

The being looked down at his chessboard, where the pieces lay in organized rows. On his side were the demons, where the corner pawn to his right was moved out two spaces. It was the only piece moved out so far, and he was not-so-patiently awaiting the move on the side of the Galaxy Soldier Army.

It would be a while until the boy, his opponent fighting on the behalf of the GSA, arrived. It would be a long time, indeed, before he made his next move. And during the downtime, the waiting party put the stalling to good use by strategizing and trying to predict his next move. Once that was done, and he'd thought of every single possible outcome, he grew impatient. For a moment he even thought of physically reaching down to shake the boy out of his sleep and abduct him for the sole purpose of making him play.

He was Nightmare, after all. Anything was possible to him. And for such a being as him who had ambitions to win his own game at all costs, he was the one who controlled the rules – and, of course...had the ability to bend them in his favor.

His skeletal fingers tapped the moved-out pawn on the chessboard with a steady beat. He had made the pieces like voodoo dolls; the movements of the pieces corresponded to the likenesses they were made after. So somewhere, out in the depths of his fortress, there would be a demon beast being miraculously tossed up and down by an invisible force. It was an amusing thought.

Nightmare stroked his long chin with his free hand, observing the back row of his pieces. Tilting his head up thoughtfully, he noticed that some of the pieces had not yet been linked to a living thing. When he'd made the pieces, he had only breathed life into a few of them. The pieces that were not yet 'alive' were based off templates, from rough sketches of nightmares that people feared the most.

For he possessed a skill that no other being could match one-for-one with, save for the Race of Light themselves. He could create. Not just any ordinary creation; he could create life. However, he could not create out of nothing – as all creation had to come from something.

It was the power of nightmares that he harnessed, the power of fear in the heart of man. It was the same emotion of fear that gave him his name. It was this emotion he used to make his monsters, and what he fed on for power. Without fear, he was nothing. And with it, he was unstoppable.

He let go of the pawn and set it carefully upright on the board, lest he damage his own disposable creation, and his finger traced around the board, hovering above the piece he would soon select.

"_**Let's see...what shall I create today?"**_

Nightmare's pointer finger landed on his right-hand bishop – the fire-red wolf, with spikes running down its back and its sharp claws raised to kill. When making this piece, he'd thought of the way men were terrified by feral animals. Especially animals with lethal claws. The physical appearance of the beast was designed with that image in mind.

The next step was to give it life.  
>The wolf's reddish body was a stunning magenta color; Nightmare was pleased with it. He had not yet created anything of such a brilliant hue since the creation of the being who had failed him.<p>

Red...red like blood. And red...like fire.  
>...<em>Fire.<em>

Nightmare closed his eyes to search for fire and channeled his innate power, the collective feelings of hatred, pain, and sadness of the sentient people of the universe that was housed inside him. And instantly, he found fire.  
>He heard screams, the agonized chorus of souls burning for eternity in the lakes of sulfur and brimstone. Then came the cries of people that were alive, but soon to die—trapped under burning columns of wood, their bodies reduced to smoldering ashes after the smoke cleared.<em><br>Yes..._this was fire. It was exactly what he had been looking for.

_A Demon Beast born from the inferno of Hell. _It had a nice ring to it. Nightmare grinned, and he began to perform his twisted miracle of the birth of a monster.

He pushed the chess game aside, and turned to another board behind him, where a few of his other creations lay. Here he bashed his fingers together, bringing forth the feelings of danger that he'd found. And out they came, bursting forth like a fountain and coming through the tips of his fingers, solidifying, personifying...until a living wolf made in the likeness of its chess piece sat like an obedient dog, waiting for the instruction of its master.

Nightmare breathed savagery into its mind. He channeled into the beast-to-be what he knew about wolves. They were territorial animals in nature, scavengers _and_ hunters in their own right. This wolf was to be no exception. He would make it so powerful that the very forces of nature would be jealous of what it was capable of. Through the process of creation he taught it how to be merciless, to only feed off the agony and the fire it was born from.

...Just like the way Nightmare existed because of fear. Strength was fear, and fear gave strength. _Like master, like servant..._

Now it was worthy of being called a beast. Its furry maw now curled into a snarl, a green gem embedded on its forehead gleamed audibly. From behind Nightmare the corresponding chess piece emitted a radiant glow of light. _Success. _

It needed a name. Something to reflect the fear of fire, the agony of ashes. Nightmare's finger returned to the cleft of his chin, where he assumed a thoughtful pose.

"...Chilidog?"

The wolf snarled, as if offended.

_Hmm...no_. The animal – no, _demon beast _– deserved more than that. He wanted a name that would make people _shudder _when they uttered it, and tremble in fear at its mention – not to mock it in underestimation of its power.

**"Your name...will be Wolfwrath."**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>**:**** H**ope in Something Small and Yet Unseen

**-Meta-**

"He knows we're here, Meta."

Jecra sat in the same place where we'd seen each other the night before. He was still as a sentinel, his eyes turned up to the sky that showed its first faint light in the early hours of the morning. The sky was still dark, the same transitional blue as the color of my body. A few late stars hung above us, but they were quickly fading.

I looked at how his eyes had dark lines under them, as if he'd been deprived of sleep. The telltale distanced and detached feeling he had was a good indicator. I didn't blame him – for I, too, slept terribly that night, which wasn't surprising for me, since I usually spend most nights pondering the events of the day. That day earned bonus points for having too much for me to even comprehend.

"Who, Sir Arthur? Of course he knows we're here, even if he left a few days ago..."

"No, not Arthur. Nightmare."

His words echoed in my mind as I registered them. _Nightmare...?_

He tuned back into the world and offered to pull me up to the stack of crates, and I sat beside him on the tallest point.

"We never bothered to explain this fully to you, Meta. We only assumed you'd know."

"...The legend? I know of it – the one of stars and nightmares."

"Yeah, I know, Meta. I know you know. But what we haven't done is make sure that what you've heard is the right version of the story."

I waited for another long monologue from Jecra, but he seemed too tired to explain it and just sighed weakly. He was stressed, after all...and hopefully, soon enough, he'd be able to find a solution to his problems.

"The stars," I said, pointing to the sky. "They're disappearing."

Jecra smiled. Indeed, the stars were fading, and daylight was soon approaching, faster than we'd both expected.

"Heh...you've remembered what I've said, didn't you."

I nodded. _Though their light may be blinded by the light of our own star...the stars are always up there, circling above us, watching over us._

He stood up suddenly, and it was an abrupt motion, one of impatience and with the finality of his decision.

"We're going, Meta."

"...Where?"

"We're leaving this garrison, this planet, and all of our mistakes behind. We'll go and find Arthur. Nonsurat was right...there really isn't anything left to protect here. We'll give it up, turn it over...and find a way to start again."

He jumped off the platform of crates, and his cape floated around him as he walked off to the barracks.

"You wait here, Meta. I'm going to call the rest of the Squad. We take off at first light and we're never coming back."

* * *

><p>Far off in the outer reaches of the universe, a meeting was taking place.<p>

There were four of them in total, four of the key players in the liberation of the cosmos – men of great strength, and even stronger in spirit. They were the ones who not only called their worlds to action, but brought them all together as a single, unified, unstoppable force against the singular being that fought to divide their fall. They fought not just nightmares, but _the_ Nightmare – the one being whose annihilation had become the sole focus of their lives.

These four were the Generals – for it was them who rallied their forces and gathered the Star Warriors to create the GSA. Four of them, who carried the mark of the Stars on their shoulders and their weapons ready at hand. These were the men who knew war, and war was the discussion they'd brought to the table. Rare enough it was for all of them be in the same place and at the same time, but the unexpected circumstances that had brought them together again stood to be even rarer. And now they sat together, gathered in their underground base of operations, hidden deep beneath the surface of their current occupied planet.

The light was dim, and the walls were soundproof – a lone floodlight lit the round table in the center and left everything else pitch black. Here they sat in the directions of the four corners of the world – north, south, east and west. Presently they waited, and they assumed equal representation amongst each other, with the role of the leader given only to the one whom they trusted the most, the man who had started it all.

Sir Arthur laid his hands on the table in a calm, collective manner, and raised his voice so that the three others could hear him.

_**"Commencing the meeting of the Generals in the Galaxy Soldier Army. May all that is said be for naught but the glory of the Stars, and all that is reported to be words of integrity."**_ He then paused nonchalantly, letting the familiar words echo on the closed walls.

"Please raise your right hand and Warp Star to restate your vow of secrecy."

All four Generals, including Arthur, did as he told – it was the highest gesture of respect among all Star Warriors, reserved for only the most sincere dedications.

_**"By the code of our honor, nothing said from hereafter is to leave this room, and every issue must remain in it. Do you agree to this?"**_

The result from the three others was all as expected. "Yes."

"Very well. Nonsurat, please inform us of your division's current standings."

Sir Nonsurat sat stiffly in his chair, the blade of his halberd tilting menacingly over his pauldrons and crimson cape. "The division is doing well," he stated gruffly. "No signs of corruption or leadership issues. We have been recruiting more soldiers and are currently training them under the supervision of our many drill sergeants. Our numbers are increasing collectively by the thousands each day."

"Dragato?"

Sitting directly in front of Arthur, Sir Dragato toyed with the hilt of his cutlass, nonchalant and informal as a cheerful man at a funeral. He was the polar opposite of Nonsurat, and it was rare for them to ever be placed in the same room, let alone have them sit next to each other, without clashing over anything—from leadership disputes to modus operandi to which one of them hated the other more...and everything else in between.

"All fine, really. We've spread out through Gamble Galaxy, but we're focusing now on the Milky Way. So far we've got the Sagittarius arm secured, and now we're setting up bases in all the populated parts of the Orion spur. I've been keeping an eye on Rock Star, but I've managed to get Ripple Star before Nightmare laid his dirty hands on it—and that's why we're on it right now. It's an ideal base, isn't it? Provided that this sugary place doesn't get soured up anytime soon."

"Falspar?"

Last to report was Sir Falspar, the strongest of the three, second in speed and skill only to Arthur himself. By far he was also the most balanced, straddling between Dragato's pragmatism, Nonsurat's truculence and Arthur's practicality, putting him in a league of his own as a valuable, well-rounded leader.

His hands rested comfortably and without tension at his sides as he spoke, his left hand gently caressing the sheathed blade on his belt – a habitual move of security.

"The war has not yet begun on any other planet in this system, Sir. However, the ripples of his prescence have been sighted and _will_ increase if left untouched. Some of my scouts have found an abnormally high demon beast activity rate on the planet of Shiver Star, even after the previous war ended. The reason behind this disturbance and the usage of the demon beasts that were transported still remains unknown. We have not yet set foot on that planet since then, but I will send my troops there—and, if necessary, my entire division—to rule out this problem. I plan to investigate this matter as soon as possible, and when I achieve any progress on it, I shall report back."

Arthur nodded, absorbing the progress of each of the Generals. All was well, and each of them were doing the role in which they served best. Nonsurat, busy with advancing their amount of manpower. Dragato, putting the forces to good use. And Falspar, searching out in the territories yet unknown, seeking out the next potential battlefield.

He was pleased at the work of his three Lieutenant Generals, but there was still one tiny detail that bothered him, and he struggled with it constantly after he found out about it.

Despite his position of power, Arthur did not lead his own formal division. They had trusted him to keep everything together, and he technically had everyone under his command – and yet, there was nothing he could really call his own. On the battlefield, he was as valuable of an asset as any, but in terms of leadership, he was only a figure that kept the system in order. But by firepower, he was only semi-formally in charge of the squads from numbers one through fifty, and all of these had either been abandoned or transfered over to form platoons in one of the three divisions. The only remnant from times when the Army was merely a band of freedom-fighters had not yet been assigned to a division. And that was Squad 19.

"As for my report...it concerns Squad 19. I received a terminal-level distress call from them the day after I arrived on Ripple Star."

He let the words echo on the walls, resonating until it found their way into the realizations of the three.

Nonsurat was the first to react to the news. "Those insufferable bastards?" he muttered under his breath. "Must be that sonuvabitch Jecra again, what with his leadership issues and all..."

That line had lit a fuse within Dragato, and he had the uncontrollable urge to reach across the table and speak his opinion with the slash of his cutlass rather than deal it out with words. He gave a sideways glance to Arthur, as if it was a cue for grounds to reprimand him for his language, but Arthur said nothing. He need not address the fact that both of them knew better. And as he knew that both were aware of this as well, he continued.

"It is exactly as you say, Nonsurat. Squad 19 is currently undergoing difficult leadership issues. He did not tell me much, but what I know for sure is that Jecra is 'extremely stressed and unable to handle the situation without the guidance of a higher-up'. They are split on the matter, but the general opinion of the Squad seems to be that they wish to seek training...and from none other than you, Nonsurat."

The halberd-wielding General simply laughed at the statement. "Pah, that's how it is? They complain about not being able to run a squad when we're able to run an Army? What madness...that's insane!"

That was when Arthur snapped. "_**Respect my soldiers, Nonsurat.**_ Remember that they are as just as undeserving as you and I. Calling them out on their own iniquities and boasting about your strengths is just as insane! Has the pride of this position gotten into your head? Behave to my men as you would have them behave to you. _**Do I make myself clear?**_ Or do I have to cut that into your body like you do to the troops you have under your command?"

Nonsurat did not waver nor test his boundaries again. "No, Sir. It is clear."

"Good. Then I will continue with my previous subject. I expect the entirety of Squad 19 to seek my guidance. The Excalibur is in their possession, and if they are slow, they will arrive at us within no later than a week."

"They will find us," he said, "...and they will come to Ripple Star soon, seeking to set right the things that have gone wrong amongst themselves. They are aware of their own corruption and they can only continue to grow it...unless something is done. This is something that I can trust you with, Nonsurat. This is your territory and the service that fits you best. For the time when they come, you have my direct orders to train them all in person."

A question from Nonsurat still remained. "Then Sir...what about Meta?"

Arthur smiled under his mask, thinking with fondness of the boy he'd intended to be a soldier amongst them from the start.

_**"He is a special case. As for Meta...I will take care of him personally."**_

* * *

><p><strong>-Meta-<strong>

The sun was already above the horizon when the entire Squad reached the distant mountain that towered over the garrison.

We hadn't left it all behind, however. All the remaining supplies, such as the stash of canned food good enough to last an entire platoon a month, and the arsenal of weapons and armor that Atelier had in the forge room, were stored in a standard-issue military cargo vehicle that we rode to the base of the mountain. The soldiers didn't have many personal belongings – aside from their weapons and Warp Stars they didn't really have a need for anything in the material world. In this aspect, I could relate to them. I imagined how hard it was for a person who had a livelihood based heavily on material things to abandon all of them in order to join the GSA. For them it would be a forced obligation, not the kind of obligation I had, since I didn't have a choice in the matter anyway.

To the Squad's amusement, they had realized that this was the first time I'd ever been in any sort of moving vehicle. I found myself fascinated by the fact that it was like a moving room, and it was hard to grasp how the people in my previous world could not have seen such a convenience. I leaned out the window and felt the wind tickle my face, watching the garrison slowly recede away from behind us with quickening speed. What a truly new feeling it was! The sensation of motion, mixed with the breeze and the feeling of elation brought me excitement, again, for the things to come.

Atelier, who was in the driver's seat, explained to me that there were many different kinds of moving vehicles like this one, built in many shapes and sizes for a plethora of purposes. It seemed like she'd underestimated my knowledge, but she wasn't condescending about it. I knew that boats traveled on the sea, planes flew in the sky, and spacecrafts traveled...well, space.

But come to think of it, I've never seen a sea before or flew in the sky, and I certainly haven't been in the depths of outer space. My mind went back to the person I once was, and the life I'd left behind – a dreaming child who looked up in wonder at the stars in the night sky, content and at the same time discontent with the small, secluded world that had served as a boundary. Many times I'd wondered at the possibility of ever escaping that cage – and now, all of a sudden, that chance had come. _I could break free._

Near the mountain Atelier hit the brakes, and not far away I could see a door carved into the rock face. So this mountain _was_ hiding something, after all! With the engine still on, she got out of the truck along with Jecra, and while he left to open the hidden door, Atelier came back to the passenger area, where she sat among us. I guess she didn't think we'd trust Jecra behind the wheel, even after he'd apologized to us publicly and agreed to make another joint effort to be a sane leader for the time being before we left the garrison.

"So, Meta," she said, "I guess you've figured by now that this ain't no ordinary mountain."

"Yeah, it's-" the soldier called Deneb interrupted.

"Aw, you spoil, don't say it! Anyways, it's a hangar. Y'know that steely thing you've probably seen on the way here? Well, that's kind of like an airport. Except it's an interstellar airport. The mountain's hollow, and inside – that's where we'll find our ticket out of here."

"Really?" Out of anything I could have said, that was all I could muster. I was definitely expecting something around that inconspicuous mountain, but not something _within_ it. From a distance, it looked like one solid formation, and I had no clue that its interior was completely hollow. What was hidden inside was still unknown, but my curiosity would be satisfied soon enough.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jecra moving away a panel cut into the mountainside, revealing an electronic keypad and a star-shaped keyhole. Here he inserted his own Warp Star in, and slowly, the sound of creaking metal filled the air and a hidden doorway came to life. We watched him give the thumbs-up sign before he disappeared into the darkness within the mountain, and Atelier hopped back into the driver's seat.

"We're driving this in, and into the aircraft as well. There's no sense in unloading everything and leaving a perfectly good truck behind."

...

The spectacle hidden inside was more surprising than anything I'd come across since the GSA.  
>It took time to get to it, nearly dozens of doors and gates and measures of security that ensured no one—not even the demons themselves—could breach these barriers. But it was worth it. Though it was suspenseful and equally a pain, it was worth it.<p>

At the end of the final gate was a spaceship larger than any manmade thing I'd ever encountered, its body plated in shiny metal, in hues of vibrant gold and silver. However, this was not the kind of spaceship that was illustrated in the books, nor was it the hypothetical image of a spaceship that existed in my mind. At the front of the ship was none other than the likeness of Arthur himself, the features of his mask adorning the bow. Behind the slit of his mask, closed off by several layers of thick tempered-glass walls, was the control bridge, and I figured that the captain, whoever it was, could operate it from there. The long body of the ship was armed with rows of cannons, and on the top of one main deck stood a double-barrelled turret that towered over the many engines at its stern side.

"Impressive, eh?"

I barely heard Atelier's words. This was beyond impressive. To think that something this grand was locked up inside what looked to be like an ordinary mountain was actually kind of a pity– such a formidable ship deserved more than to be neglected. Yet it was hidden here, away from the rest of the Army in complete seclusion, its metal exterior winking at us in the dim floodlights, as ship-shape as the day it had been put out of commission – as if waiting for the day it would be used in service. And now, we were about to give it a run for glory.

"...Why?" I asked. "Out of all the places to hide a ship, why would the GSA choose to leave it here?"

"Think about it," Jecra replied. "This is the last place Nightmare would expect us to have it. Arthur commisioned this ship to be built at the very beginning, and for a time, it served as a base of operations, and it even won quite a few battles. Obviously, the Army has grown since then, and when our forces were sorted into divisions, he left us – and this battleship – behind."

That made it even more sad, how the ship before us had a legacy of victory, and it had simply fallen out of use over the years. It was still bright, though – in a well-maintained, pristine condition that seemed to be just like the way it would have been when in service.

"Hey, wait a minute!" said Deneb, the one who'd been so eager to tell me what was inside the hangar. "Are you expecting us to get to Sir Arthur _right now? _I mean, judging by the way we're at right now, Sir...I don't think it's possible."

"Yeah, that's exactly why, Deneb. That's why we're going to make the trip. If it's possible that all of us are still listening to each other right now, then _anything's_ possible."

Jecra was right – not even Palamedes could disagree with that. Staying and letting the tension among us fester would only lead to even more problems in the future. It'd be hopeless trying to solve them on our own, as well. The only option left was to bail out, _together_, and seek out the guidance of someone above us.

"That being said, then...let's not waste another minute. But this means we're going to have to put aside our differences again – long enough to keep this battleship in the air. And this also means we're in this together. If one person doesn't do their job, then all of us are done for. "

With those ominous words we took a ramp that led to the upper level of the hull, through a doorway that opened with one last password.

"...This is the battleship Excalibur. Welcome aboard."

* * *

><p>On the planet Ripple Star, the meeting was still taking place.<p>

Sir Nonsurat had composed himself, accepting the fact that he would soon be expecting a new group of soldiers to train. He'd been reluctant at first, but when reason came back to him, he was able to revel in the reality that he had _direct orders _to do as he pleased to Squad 19. Forget putting them under a reasonable amount of stress. He would whittle them into soldiers more powerful than the demon beasts themselves, more agile and enduring than any squadful of Star Warriors that had been put through his regime.

And Arthur accepted this as well; he put the matter aside and simply moved on to the things that needed to be addressed the most.

"Dragato."

"...Hm?"

"This is not much to ask of you, but for now, I want you to pull out of Sagittarius completely. I know Nonsurat has told you numerous times before, and now I am starting to believe that there is truly nothing worth protecting in its outer reaches. The Milky Way is at its turning point, my knights. Shiver Star was already lost long ago, and now, for whatever reason, Nightmare is targeting it again. If Neo Star and Rock Star's resources are taken by him, it will be over for us. And goodness, who knows how terrible it will be once the war spreads to such a peaceful place like this?  
>"We simply <em>cannot<em> afford any more losses, Dragato. Falspar and Nonsurat, the same applies to you as well. We cannot judge yet because most of it has not yet started, but the Cygnus and Perseus arms are already in ruins. Do what you need to do. If Nonsurat gives you troops, do _not_ turn them down. Conquer and advance the walls of the Kingdom of the Stars."

Dragato took his mission in stride. "Of course, Sir!"

And Arthur continued down his chain of command.

"Falspar."

"...Yes, Sir?"

"Continue your vigil on Shiver Star. A deady battle may be brewing. Do not repeat the same mistake that we were all responsible last time—when we came to it too late to reverse the damage. I suspect that an armageddon of the same caliber as the previous disaster will not happen again, especially after all of Shiver Star's population was wiped out. He will attack for a different reason. Anyway, spread your forces throughout the Orion spur, and if you can discover, secure and defend any inhabited areas, do so with the help of Dragato."

"What about Squad 19, Sir?"

At the mention of this, the Warp Star on Arthur's left shoulder began to glow, and a brilliant white light shone from it. Not long after, Nonsurat looked down at his star and it was glowing, and Dragato's and Falspar's did as well, until they all gleamed brightly, lighting up the darkness of the room.

Though the phenomena of the signal needed no explanation amongst the Generals, Arthur detached the Warp Star from his armor and stared at it with disbelieving eyes.

"They're coming," he muttered. "They really meant it. And they will be here before we know it."

* * *

><p><strong>-Meta- <strong>

... I would never forget my first feeling of flight.

The entire Squad was at the control bridge of the battleship, with every soldier in their place at the controls. I was the only one watching them, strapped to the passenger seats with a safety belt. The turbulence would be high and I had not yet experienced anything like it before, so the most safe and logical precaution was to keep me at a safe distance.  
>They were ready. Everything had been put away in its place, secured, and prepared for launch. All of our differences and previous disputes were put aside for now.<br>As the launching gates opened up and the Excalibur was getting ready for action, Atelier began the chain of status reports that would send us on our way.

"_Beginning_ _launch preparation. Runway and all canopies are clear—all status reports are ready!_"

Her voice was clear and concise, like she'd actually been trained to do the job, and had done it before on the battlefield. Quite possibly, she might've...

"_Reactor one, output normal_."

Palamedes pushed a combination of buttons on the control panel in front of him, just as serious and focused as much as he had been brash.

"_Adjust the balancer to... 0001!_"

Pollux adjusted a series of sliders and knobs until a number on the large display screen in front of him read '0001'.

"_Let's raise the anchor._"

Vega pulled the labeled lever beside him, and the sound of many chains and metal wires retracting screeched beneath us.

"_Checking anti-gravity plant and centrifugal force. One, two, three, okay!_"

How in the world did an anti-gravity plant work? Anyway, I'd have to ask Deneb about it later.

"_Raise the sails, solar lever two-eighty-eight!_"

Lamorak reached for the digital keyboard spread out on the launching interface, typing in the last settings and finalizing them.

There was only one line left now, and it was the command to take off. The engines roared in increasing rapidity and I could feel the anticipation of the bridge crew, but they remained perfectly still. I held my breath, waiting for the finishing call.

"_Commence launch!"_

And, with the words of Jecra still ringing in our ears...the Excalibur took off and disappeared into the depths of space.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen upon the pristine hills of Ripple Star.<p>

Sir Arthur stood alone at the top of a grassy knoll, overlooking his current base of operations. Behind the hill, the base slept in serene darkness, and the last bonfires had long since been put out. In front of him, separated by a few rough geological features, stood the native civilization of the planet. Swirling spires of brick and stone, with patterned stars etched into the walls, dotted the landscape. Fountains were aplenty, gushing forth streams of clean water that ran through a system of aqueducts and bridges.

They were a sweet, welcoming people, who knew nothing of the sufferings of war. Yet they had grown up with the legends of the Star Warriors, the ones whom they had trusted to protect them, and it was easy for Arthur and his knights to approach them. Although the fairy race of the planet seemed to hype their prescence at first, eventually this died down, and the GSA kept their off-duty soldiers here in a convenient place to meet, remaining here as a benign prescence.

The fairy queen had even proposed to call Arthur their king. Arthur had simply laughed politely, declining her request but acknowledging the fact that they apparently seemed to know a lot about the legends of the Star Warriors. He told them that the Star Warriors were not fit to be kings, and that he was neither the reincarnation nor the same person as the King Arthur spoken of in the legends.

He sniffed the air and it was so clean and fresh, like breathing in sweet stardust and liquid warmth. How long had it been since he had tasted warmth in the air? For such a place like Ripple Star, even the air had a taste, and it carried the scent of nostalgia. Arthur searched for memories of happier times, of times when there was no war but simply peace. He closed his eyes, and when he imagined it, he shook with emotion and it sent a warm chill through his body.

Now the only scent he knew of was the scent of war, of the blood of his enemies and comrades alike. On the battlefield, they blended together and became a tainted mixture of the good and the evil, congealing into something ugly and gray and foul. It stunned him that he had completely forgotten the memory of anything happier, only triggered to come back when he tasted the air of Ripple Star.

Arthur thought back to what he had said earlier in the conference of the Generals – "And goodness, who knows how terrible it will be once the war spreads to such a peaceful place like this?"

His own words had suddenly become put to perspective for him. This was a world that, without the influence and the constant protection of the Galaxy Soldier Army, would fall to ruins immediately. For whatever reason Nightmare would target them for, the entire planet could be at his hands in minutes if he attacked them with the same level of force he usually did. And if the GSA let that happen...then Ripple Star would be another planet to add to the list of the dead and the gone.

And this cycle of destruction had to be stopped from repeating, as it had so many times on so many planets over the course of hundreds of millenia. He looked to the sky, and as the faint band of the Milky Way they resided in splashed over the night, he wondered how many planets were still out there – the ones that were already dead, the ones going through the fight...and the ones yet to be discovered. Somewhere, out in this sky, the planet that Squad 19 had left would be out there, now as a member of the growing list of the dead.

And also in this sky were the soldiers of the Squad themselves, coming here on his very own battleship that he had left for them in this purpose. The stars winked and twinkled and the ribbon-like Orion spur glistened above him...and for a moment he could have sworn he saw a tiny little light shoot through the sky and land on the horizon.

When he looked again, the little light was gone, and the sight of the winking and twinkling dissipated, receding into the blackness of the night.

He was tempted to lie down in the grass and just stare at the stars the entire night, falling asleep in the memory of peace and waking up in a world that was serene and calm. But he refused the urge – for much as he wanted to succumb to that desire, he could not go to sleep in peace when there was still injustice in the world. Only for a moment, he'd let the _stardust_-tasting air and the sweet thoughts of _utopia_ seep into his mind, and he pushed out those images, in fear of them contaminating his vows of liberating the world of injustice.

But for now, he would have to sleep, as all living things needed to do in order to survive. He could sleep in ease this night and dream of happiness, but the world would still be broken when he woke up. Now he would go back to the base and into his office and quarters to get sleep, and in the morning he would wait again for Squad 19's arrival.

With one last look at the fairy village and the skies, Arthur turned on his heel and set off back to the base, his cape flowing gently behind him.

...And when he slept that night, he dreamed of utopia.

* * *

><p><strong>-Meta-<strong>

How does one tell time in space?

I knew that days, months and years were all different units on nearly every planet, so knowing how many days had passed in terms of my home planet seemed irrelevant. There had to be some sort of grand unifying measure of time – some standard unit that was used throughout the universe. I guessed that it was displayed in the strings of numbers that only Deneb and all the others who worked the battleship could fully understand.

Anyway, what had felt like a week (in my standards) had already passed. It would have been useless to attempt training at a lower gravity level than what I was used to. At least I had to keep my body strong, in fear of losing precious muscle mass. Running for nearly half a day with some intermittent breaks (again, in my own internal clock) while hooked to a power-harnessing machine didn't seem too bad, compared to what I'd heard about actual training. But despite that, I was actually looking forward to it – at long last, instead of the leadership issues we had, there would be formal organization instead of quasi-anarchy.

The soldiers _did_ deserve some credit, though. It was exactly how Jecra had said – we _were_ able to manage, so as long as we didn't kill each other on board. It was a mystery – despite quarreling almost incessantly off-duty, when the time came to be serious, somehow the Squad was able to unite under one common goal and be temporarily on good terms with each other for that purpose.

When I wasn't exercising or fulfilling any menial ship duties as an easy unit of labor, I was with someone else. Ironically, even though the Excalibur was a large battleship, I rarely ever was alone. I had no urge to explore the seemingly endless halls, for I was sure I would get lost.

However, there was one night (is there even night in space?) where I was able to find time to myself, and I found it near the end of our journey, near the main deck of the ship where windows were thick, tinted and shatter-proof, to put as much of a barrier between the interior of the ship and the vacuum of outer space. I sat on the narrow windowsill and the layers of tinted glass had made the view outside almost completely black. But I could still see out of the window. That was all that mattered.

The day we took off and left for good, after we broke from the pull of gravity and out of orbit, I saw, for the first time, what space really looked like.

The sheer joy of the moment was something I couldn't even put to words. Only two weeks ago – I had already lost exact count – I had spent all my life wishing to see what the outside world looked like. And not only that wish was fulfilled, but my wish to escape the cage of gravity and be up in the skies was granted as well.

Now that I looked at them again, I reminded myself of how much I'd wanted to see this landscape. All my dreams, ambitions, and hopes were all directed towards experiencing this moment. Far beyond in front of me was a field of millions of little bright dots, each containing a world of their own. My thoughts of being so finitely small were only put into perspective by this infinitely big landscape that stretched out on every single side. And now...I felt like the reality was worse than what I'd imagined.

No matter how many times I looked at them, there was a form of calm, wise beauty coming from the stars – but never anything magical. I would never forget how absolutely beautiful they were. But in the moment, I had forgotten something crucial, and so I wondered – _Why? Why did I ever wish to see this if it's just a nothingness that extends forever?_

I let the thought sit until the realization came. And when it did, it shocked me that I had simply forgotten it in the distractions of ambition.

I had lost the original hope, the feeling that had made me wish these things from the start. I'd wanted to reach for them because I wanted _more. _Because I thought that there was certainly more to life than what I had...and I wanted to reach for it and experience it myself.

Whatever or whoever had answered it, had delivered it in a way that made it feel more malignant instead of with good intention. In the end, a chain of bad events had led to an eventual good thing, and I was on my way to experience even more.

But during all of this I had lost that original hope. When I was still the isolated boy that I still am today, when I was up on a rooftop and gazing at the stars, clutching a Warp Star that I had yet to discover the purpose of. It was exactly – that feeling – _**that hope in something small and yet unseen—**__that _had brought me out of my cage.

I searched for a word to name this feeling, but I could not find one. Sorting through the words I knew, I took out the Warp Star in the pocket at my belt and held it out, gazing at the field of stars the same exact way I'd always dreamed of doing.

... It was faith. The hope in something small and yet unseen.

That was when Jecra passed by, whistling and kicking the heels of his shoes as he walked down the corridor.

"Hey there, Meta!"

Little did he know how he had just hijacked my train of thought.

I raised my hand in greeting nonetheless, quickly pocketing the Warp Star before he could see it.

"It's been a long trip, hasn't it?"

I nodded like I usually did in response to any of Jecra's comments. "How long has it been?"

"If we go by the 24-hour system, then about 168 hours. Give or take, but if you want to know the actual number down to the milisecond, you can go see Deneb at the control bridge."

"I will."

"Anyway, I just came to tell you that we'll be landing in another 12 hours or so. It'll be at the planet where Sir Arthur's currently at. He's going to be there for us this time – I already told him that he should be expecting us."

Jecra turned around and walked back the direction he'd came, still whistling as disappeared down the end of the corridor. As the sound of his heavy footsteps faded into echoes, I took out the Warp Star again.

Deneb and the control bridge would have to wait. This was far more important. And since I only had twelve more hours to enjoy this view, I might as well get every minute of it.

* * *

><p>It was noon that day when Arthur saw a real streak of light – except this time, it was the Excalibur, coming down to land on Ripple Star.<p>

The entire base had already noticed it before he peered out the window of his office, and he was late to officially announce it by at least an entire regiment's worth of soldiers, who had seen it before him. When he used and abused his authority to get to his base's own hangar, the Squad was already waiting for him, along with the other three Generals.

The members of Squad 19 looked dazed, to say the least, as one would be dazed from piloting a battleship under unordinary circumstances, without any verification from all the higher-ups. For the most part, they were ready to accept whatever awaited them, be it punishment or a warm, fond greeting from Arthur.

Lucky for them, it seemed to be the latter, and Arthur thanked them for their bravery in their success of arriving on Ripple Star. Though they had done quite a lot, the true majority of their work was only just about to begin, and they would have to suffer the consequences of their own misdirection.

Perhaps the person he was the happiest to see was not Jecra – it was the lone child at the back of the procession, standing fixed at one spot, overwhelmed by the rush of something new.

Arthur stood with the boy for a long time before he spoke, watching and following his blank white eyes as they drifted back and forth, up and down, absorbing all he could like a sponge could take in water.

"Meta?" He broke the trance and tapped him on the top of his head, and when they made eye contact he could see that something had changed in the boy since he'd last seen him – and it was something good.

Meta looked up at Arthur and he clutched his Warp Star in both palms, with only one sentence to explain all he needed to convey.

_"I have seen the stars."_

Arthur smiled fondly from underneath his mask and he could see the beginning of hope developing in the soldier-to-be, the sense of relief and anticipation and finality all rolled into one coming from the metal star held in his hands.

"Come with me. You are long overdue for an explanation of what is in store for you."

When Arthur had seen all of the Squad and tended to Meta, Nonsurat struck and pulled Jecra by the collar out of the gathering crowd, staring him down with a lethal, tasteless grin.

"You lucky bastard," he spat between clenched teeth. "..._This_ is where the war _really_ begins."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: 322/12**

When I originally wrote this chapter, it was among the hardest yet. But now as I've looked back at it many times, I find that it's actually one of my best so far. One near all-nighter, hours of hard work, and I've finally finished this chapter! A few notes:

- The prologue's a scene that details the creation process of a demon beast made in Nightmare's lair. I've only seen this process done (in fanfiction, at least) a few times, so I decided to add my own spin on it. Simply because I can't stand the name 'Chilidog', I'm going to stick with 'Wolfwrath'. Seriously, I've already alluded to this, but it's not going to be as awesome if I call one of Nightmare's most powerful monsters that, so I'm sticking with the English dub name instead. Note that I rarely ever do this. I pretty much stick with the Japanese names save for a few exceptions (like using 'demon beast' and 'monster' interchangeably), and this is one of them.

- I had to balance character development, foreshadowing, and keeping the pace of the story flowing in the 'conference' scenes among the 4 Generals, in the same way I had to do this in the previous 3 chapters. Originally I did not like how this nearly last-minute decision turned out, but now given the time to look back at it again, I am quite pleased with the result.

- The Battleship Excalibur is based off the appearance of the Halberd, as seen in the Kirby games, anime, and SSBB/Brawl. Special thanks to the Kirby Wiki for helping me out on some of the descriptions and the launching dialogue from _Revenge of Meta Knight_. It's not canon at all, but I just thought it'd make sense if Arthur owned his own fleet of Halberd-sized battleships—meaning that the other three Generals would have their own variations as well.

- I've used the names of the planets in _Kirby 64: The Crystal Shards, _and you can expect all of the mentioned planets to be important later on. Gamble Galaxy was a name mentioned in _Kirby Squeak Squad. _I even did a little research on this part—if all these planets are set in the Milky Way, then I put them in the same spiral arm of our galaxy. It helps to Google 'arms of the Milky Way' to get a feel for where in the universe this story takes place. And, like Meta, to realize how small we are.


	5. Expectations

**Chapter 5: Expectations**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: 46/13**

Welcome to the new first-anniversary edition of Stardust Utopia chapter 5.

Had you been here beforehand, you will have noticed that there is a good portion of new writing woven into an existing scene, as well as a completely new scene added into this chapter, both of which happen near the very end. There is also some much-needed elaboration, to make the details even better than before. The rest, for the most part, is still the same fifth chapter that's been here since a year ago when it was published.

Content notes, **4/6/12**: None, really, for this chapter, except that there's still going to be the same split-POV narration like in the previous chapter. First time I'm attempting a one-on-one fight scene in this fic, and I hope I did it well.

But I do want to say this: _This story isn't meant to be skimmed_. I purposely write these sentences in a way that they can't be understood if you just blow past them. It means that I've purposely designed this story to be read word-for-word, not paragraph-to-paragraph.  
>Sure, I say this a lot, but you can <em>tell<em> that I've spent a long time on this story and breathed a lot of love into it just to get it to where it is today. And it's completely possible to take in this story as only just a piece of close-to-canon, in-character Kirby fanfic, because _it is what it is._ But there's more to it than that—oh, much more than that! Of course, if you work on a single all-encompassing project for as long as I have, it becomes part of you. It's not just a story you write and imagine in the back of your head, it becomes a lifestyle. And over these past four years, a lot of the hardships and realizations I faced ended up, some way or the other, winded into this story. So think about that when you read this chapter.  
>But I want Stardust Utopia to speak for itself. At heart I remind myself that I'm writing naught but simple fanfiction, but you can take as much—or as little out of it as you want. I definitely have taken the most.<p>

_"The story is being told, and the battle has already been won...but all you need to do now, my dear soldier—is just listen to what it has to tell." ✪_

* * *

><p>Training is a hard thing to undergo, even for demon beasts.<p>

For even the demon beasts were born with a conscience; not all of them were submissive to their master, Nightmare, from the start—some of them were made with a more agressive nature than others. Thus, every demon beast born by the hands of Nightmare required special demon training—whether they needed it or not.

Wolfwrath, however, was one of the monsters that did not need to be trained to learn how to kill. Shortly after he'd been released from the checkerboarded chamber of his creation, he was already drowning the headquarters in fire. As far as Nightmare was concerned, even a few employees were killed trying to put out the fire, but he could be sure to replace them later. Nothing could stop Wolfwrath's rampage; no one could control him—not even his own master.

This had puzzled the trainers, the other demon beasts, and even Nightmare's right-hand-man and most trusted companion. Was it an error in the creation process? Perhaps, was the hatred he was born from one with a nature of rebelliousness like none other? Or better yet—had he been made without a conscience at all?

With this in mind, Nightmare sat idle in his lair, twiddling his thumbs as he thought of his most recent creation. Wolfwrath was not to be considered a failure—oh, that monster was anything _but_ a failure—with just the right actions it could become among the best war-waging beasts in his entire catalogue. He had built him to be that way, after all. But Wolfwrath would have to serve his purpose in full obedience to him—otherwise, there would be a problem. A very big problem.

_Built that way..._Nightmare tinkered with the phrasing of his own words. Hmm..._that was it_!

Not long ago, he'd made the same mistake with another creation. Except it had failed. Out of all the things Nightmare had ever created, only one had turned against him.  
>He grew angry just thinking about it, slamming his clenched fist down at the checkerboard of creation. <em>Why? Why hadn't he killed the rebel instead of letting him go? Why would he ever use that caliber of power and take the risk of creating something with its own emotions?<em>

Nightmare reached for a dormant beast to unleash his anger upon, and instantly, a dragon he grasped between his fingers crumbled to dust as he kneaded his raw anger into the helpless victim. What difference would it make if he killed just one of his troops? It was a defected one anyway, and he could make thousands more in its place. When he lifted his hand and swiped the dust away, the realization came to him.

He was sure of it, now. He'd tapped into a taboo, arcane power almost as old as the universe itself, and he had no control over it. Before Wolfwrath and his infamous failed creation, he'd only used the fears of mankind. And with Wolfwrath, he thought he was doing the same.  
>But something was different in the magenta wolf; he could sense it, feel it. The power he used was no ordinary power. For it was above fear and desperation itself, on a higher plane than even he could operate—and it was not in his rights to control it.<br>This, he knew, was what caused the backfiring of his failed creation...and to an extent, Wolfwrath's rebelliousness, as well. And it repulsed him. Was the great Nightmare, Overlord of the Cosmos and the Emperor of Darkness, not worthy enough to manipulate that caliber of power?

_Tch!_ He wanted to punch the board in half, like he did during the creation of his one and only rebel, but he did not want to go through the trouble of replacing it. But then again...as all things were, they could be replaced.

Nightmare had his hand lifted and was just about to bring it down in a karate chop when the voice of his right-hand-man called out from behind him.

**"Master,"** he said, **"What is it that troubles you at the moment?"**

Nightmare looked over his shoulder and saw the sigil of his company gleaming from the darkness that surrounded him.

_**"That damned wolf. It was not a mistake, merely a gamble—to have created it. I assume it has not been training well, has it?"**_

**"No, my master. At this rate, if we keep it in containment, he'll burn the whole Headquarters down. What should we do?"**

Nightmare paused for a moment, and his faithful employee remained silent, waiting patiently for his response.

_**"Put him in training again, Customer Service. And put him in the Star class to be trained until the time comes. Wolfwrath is to become the greatest war machine the Galaxy Soldier Army has yet to meet." **_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5<span>: **E**xpectations

_**"All right, all right, what the hell have we got here?"**_

Sir Nonsurat paced around the Squad, circling us as we stood in an orderly line—straight as a ruler—like a hunting hawk, searching for signs of any fear or weakness. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek as my right hand was already growing sore from holding a salute. An uneasy feeling rose in my stomach and I fought to keep it down, holding myself stiff with stress. The faint breeze stirred, and it tickled my face, whipping around the strands of a white headband tied around my forehead, with my own Warp Star affixed to the center. Was this what it was like to be in the Army—standing in tension while a higher-ranked officer breathes down your neck? Regardless of it, I willed myself into being grateful for this moment, but all of it was suppressed in fear of hearing my own thoughts louder than Nonsurat's commands.

"Pah. Low-rate scrubs." Nonsurat whipped out his halberd and made a line in the ground with the spearlike tip of his weapon.

_"_I don't give a _shit_ how many times you've heard this before," he continued, "...But I'll say it again. You've already made it this far and yet you don't have a single clue why you're _really _here. And that's...**hey, listen**!"

Without breaking stride, Nonsurat reached out and slashed in the direction of movement, the blade of his halberd stopping an inch away from Palamedes' armored neck. Step by punctuated step he strode over, threateningly brandishing the razor-sharp edge.

"And that goes exactly to prove my point! You want to know the rules here, boy? Well, here's rule number one: **follow your orders**."

"It's Pa...Palamedes, Sir..."

"**No back talk!" **he roared. "Listen, kid, if you want to survive, you've got to _listen_ to advice. Or you can go out on your own and get eaten by the wolves and slain by the demon beasts because you **didn't **_**listen**_ **to what we've told you!** And I don't give a _damn_ what your name is, boy. From now on, you're our cow-faced scrub. Got that?"

Nonsurat didn't wait for an answer in order to move on. "Anyway! You're not here because you have to settle things among yourselves. You're not here to forgive everyone else because there isn't anything to be forgiven for."

He stabbed the pointed end of the halberd into the dirt and then thrust it up again, powerfully catching the morning rays of sunlight.

"You are here...because you lost sight of the freedom you fight for. And, with my help...you _will_ get that goal back!"

I watched Nonsurat walk past me and end his pacing at the opposite end of the line where Jecra stood. His eyes were downcast like the eyes of a little boy about to be scolded. And ironically, that was exactly what he had made us look like, as if he was the father giving the discipline and we the guilty sons. Now with Nonsurat, the roles were reversed—it was like seeing your father's father, coming through you to take you apart right in front of your own children. Nothing was as defacing as scolding someone you were in charge of...and then the person in charge of _you_ comes and deals it to you the same exact way.

_**"And all because of this son of a bitch, you bastards were never brought up right!"**_

Even though Jecra was well a head taller than he was, Nonsurat didn't even flinch as he held the Squad leader with a death grip at his neck. He grabbed the chain of his pendant and twisted it in until the gold links were pulled taut and about to snap, drawing him in close.

"Pah, you call yourself a leader?" Nonsurat hissed. "You let your own Squad run around like mice while you can't even make a single decision by yourself?"

Jecra said nothing. His features were hidden by the steel of his mask, but Nonsurat didn't need to see his face to sense the feeling of contempt and inadequacy rising in his eyes.

"Don't think this is a matter of modus operandi," he continued. "This has _nothing_ to do with what we believe. What we have at hand here is a _core _issue. Our past encounters have _nothing_ to do with it."

Nonsurat let go, and Jecra staggered back, dejectedly moving back into the line.

"_Tch...Y_ou want to train people? Then first, train yourself. From here on you are relieved of all your leadership duties until further notice. And you are all equally scrubs under me."

Once again he planted his halberd into the ground, pole-first, so that the blade and the spear by its edge were hung like a flag on a flagpole.

"As you may know, it is _not_ stated in my job description that I should be motivating you. That you can find out how to do on your own. I am _not_ here to guide you, and I am _not_ here to counsel you, nor am I here to offer moral support. Instead...I am here to train you. And train you I will! By the time you all have met my **expectations,** you will come out as proper warriors. And you will fight our enemy not because you _want _to, nor because you _have_ to—but because it's right. And until then...I will make men out of you!

"Now! You see that quarter-mile track over there? Let's start it easy with you lot. Give me four laps around that track! Now get to it! Go, go, go!"

...And without another word of warning or insight of instruction, Squad 19 was on and running.

* * *

><p><em>"It's true, my master! Whatever we tell him, he just won't <em>listen!"

Presently, from his distant corner in the universe, Nightmare sat idly in his lair, holding his face in his palms as he conversed with his frontman through a camera. A holographic screen appeared in front of his checkerboard in the scrolling infinity of stars. He stared with a gaping mouth at the sight of his most trusted employee clinging onto his desk and shouting to the camera for dear life, desperately trying to avoid the fire that was engulfing his office room.  
>What he would give for a bag of popcorn to watch such priceless moments like this.<p>

_**"Stop, drop, and roll, Customer Service."**_

His words were voided when the sprinkler system came to action and sprayed down the room, the water shorting the electricity. For a moment, the video feed became grainy and fuzzy, until the section of his base switched to auxiliary backup power.

"Sorry," said his frontman, in between coughs from choking on water and smoke. "But Sir! We have to do something about this monster! At any rate, he'll kill _us _before any of the Galaxy Soldiers themselves!"

_**"Ah." **_Nightmare nodded and moved his hands out of the facepalm position, interlocking his fingers and propping up his elbows so that his facial expression was hidden by his hands, and he assumed the pose of a strategist in deep thought.

"I will take the defected beast back...perhaps slaughter him, if necessary," he decided. "But I refuse to give up this monster without a fight. It may be time consuming...but this should be well worth the investment of my time."

* * *

><p>-<strong>Meta-<strong>

_**"Keep going, you damned lot! Is this all you can do? Keep running!"**_

Not even past the third lap, I was already winded and ready to collapse. My feet and body were sore with strain from dashing with all my might through the first lap, and a painful cramp seeped into my sides during the start of the second. I was panting, short of breath, my throat was raw from breathing in the cold morning air through my mouth, and I was thoroughly ready to fall down and die right at this spot.  
>Silently, I cursed myself for never considering to run in the forests during my youth, and my stamina suffered greatly from sitting and thinking for the majority of my days. Why didn't I ever bother with something physical other than activating my adrenaline while fleeing from monsters?<p>

I took a quick glance back for a moment and out of the corner of my eye, I realized that I was lagging behind. Jecra was obviously in the lead, distancing himself as far as he could from Nonsurat, who made sure that no one would fall behind him—and if anyone did, there would be extreme consequences that I didn't want to know about. Alongside Jecra were Atelier and Pollux, who were the most experienced of the group, and they were jogging almost effortlessly, as if it was engrained in their nature to be forced along the perimeter of a track while bearing the threats of a higher officer chasing them. And following them was the remainder of the Squad—Deneb, Vega, Lamorak, Palamedes, and I...with each our own physical burdens to carry.

_**"Now count! One, two, one, two, one two three four!"**_

The eight of us did as we were told, shouting the count to keep the staccato rhythm of the patter of our feet on the track. My lungs were about to burst now—I needed to collapse on the track now, pour a bucket of cold water on my head, and drink an entire lake of water. Every single square centimeter of my body ached and throbbed with pain—it wasn't physically possible for me to shout on top of all of it.

"Hey, you, straggler! Let's hear _you _talk!"

_Oh damn— _I looked forward and saw the quickly-increasing gap between me and the rest of the Squad, and the quickly-decreasing distance between me and Nonsurat. What in the universe was this General made out of? If he could spot the only one among a group of eight not shouting at the top of his lungs, then who knows what else he could do—

It was then I stumbled over the line for my third lap, tripping over the tail ends of my own headband or the shallow trench of the marked line on the track. What had made me fall didn't even matter. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, and the sky above became singed with purple; the grass in the center of the track became bright yellow. My mind was playing tricks on me through energy depletion; I knew that—but when I willed myself and looked for strength to pick myself up off the ground and run again, I found none. I no longer had the strength to even panic. All I could do was let the Squad desert me and face the wrath of Sir Nonsurat as the corners of my eyes grew dark...

"**Get up, soldier!" **

The flat of the axe came down upon me, and I stumbled forward, half-rolling, half-crawling on my hands and feet. Though I was only an inch shorter than Nonsurat, he had the strength to toss me like a pebble—and, like he did, he had the strength to hit me like a golf ball.

At this point, the Squad noticed that something was wrong, but they were stopped and forced to keep on running without me by another roared-out command from Nonsurat. I could barely see them now—but the rest of my senses, the pain and the cramp and the overwhelming tiredness—were just as strong as ever.  
>I scraped at the ground and pulled myself up with all my might, only to find that I was too dizzy to stand up and fell flat on my face again. Nonsurat's heavy footsteps resounded behind me. I could feel the piercing, steely stare magnified by his mask burning into my back, as he approached like a hawk diving for the kill. He appeared at my side and I completely surrendered myself, letting him grab me by the cheek and force me upright and on my feet. I turned and looked at the sky with empty eyes. It was fluorescent purple now, and yellow dots danced among the clouds. Groggily, I fought back the impending darkness and identified Nonsurat, his hand raised to slap me awake.<p>

I grimaced and held myself solely at his mercy, waiting and ready for any punishment that I deserved. But no punishment came.

"Stand up and hang your eyes between your feet. Don't close your eyes!"

The command was firm and not very reassuring, and I had no strength to object. He was emotionless, manhandling me as if I was nothing but a crate of cargo, barking orders at me as if I was an animal. Under normal circumstances I would have been angered, and now there was nothing left in my body to even feel anger. Now, only an essence of defeat engulfed me. How could I—a _Star Warrior_ by _birth—_be unable to run even a mere mile? I grit my teeth and dug my fingers into the rough track and felt the dirt stain my white gauntlets, the jagged, worn surface stinging my skin. The pain was alive, and so was I. I could feel every bit of it, yet I felt like none of it was really in me. It was an odd feeling, the feeling of being separated from yourself—kind of like the way I was in between dream and reality in the infirmary of Squad 19. Was this what it was like...to die?  
>...No, being unable to run a mile would not kill me. I was sure that there would be things far more atrocious than this on the path to becoming a true soldier. Far, far worse things were only on their way.<p>

I stirred again. Nonsurat was still standing there, as he had been the whole time. The pole of his halberd was planted into the ground again, and he watched the rest of the Squad make their way halfway around the track, so that they were directly opposite to the place where I had fallen. Sensing my movement, the General reached for my forehead and pulled the Warp Star off the headband it was affixed on.  
>He held the little golden star in his hands and I trembled at the sight of it. The Warp Star was no longer golden. Its metallic, finished surface was now a foggy, oxidized bronze, tinted with dust and dirt. It glowed blue now, the color fading fast, and it looked like the tiny star would crack and crumble in Nonsurat's gauntleted hand.<p>

"It is exactly as I thought," he stated simply. "You have no grasp of using it."

_Using it? _My brow furrowed in confusion, and I returned to the hunched-over position that could help me reclaim my vision. The Warp Star could be _'used'?_ I thought about the time before I had learned about the Star Warriors, when just looking at it would bring me hope and some unidentifiable strength. But not now. Not in this pitiful state, no hope could be found within it. But then again, the legend I idolized and which was slowly beginning to come true _did_ mention something like it. '_The mark of the Star Warriors is the power of the stars themselves'. _That was it! But was the said power and the 'mark of the Star Warriors' really referring to the Warp Star?

Nonsurat examined the star once more, turning it over until he thrust it back into my face with dissatisfaction. "Huh. Someone will come and tell you what that means. But it is not my role to explain it."

I snapped out of my thought process and back into reality when the Squad crossed the finish line, nearly tripping over me as they came to a halt. They were all panting, some faring better than others, but for the most part, they were all ready for defeat.

"Pah, you call that a mile run? Hell, that took at least ten minutes and a half of eternity! How in the universe are you going to be able to outrun the demon beasts? Huh?"

Defeat had come through the words of Nonsurat, the way it always did. The Squad looked as if they were anticipating this, but no matter how much you expected defeat, you would still feel the pain of it actually happening. At least for me, Nonsurat had the decency not to add, "...And some of you didn't even finish it".

"You, cow-face!" Nonsurat thrust his halberd at Palamedes. "Go fetch us some water. The red cooler over there—get it!"

"...Su-sure..." he stuttered, and he ran off to the far end of the track where Nonsurat had directed him to. He didn't wait for the soldier to come back before he began his next string of commands.  
>"Don't think this is over already," he continued. "Oh, hell no, it ain't over. Trust me, you lot. This was just warmup. And now the real fun is about to begin!"<p>

Palamedes came tottering back with the water when Nonsurat was just about to announce the next part of his training regime. "Good boy," he said sarcastically. "Now that we're all here...we spar until afternoon. If you can't flee, you lot better be good at toughing it out! Your weapons are in the vault back there and I will attend to you shortly. But first...there will be a slight change of plans."

Nonsurat motioned for me to come and he pulled me over roughly to the red container, where he promptly told me to drink. There weren't any cups or an obvious way to get the water out of it, and I stared at the container—a cooler, Nonsurat had called it—looking at it from all angles in confusion.  
>He sighed and sent away the rest of the Squad to where they needed to go, and with an air of frustration and impatience, he tilted the cooler back and pressed a lever near the bottom with his foot, and a jet of water came out from a spout on the top, squirting me in the face. I choked and jumped back in surprise, but the General was anything but amused.<p>

"Just this time, boy. Don't expect me to help you any more than this."

He turned his back to me and watched, scrutinizingly, as Jecra opened the door to a steel storage vault that contained the standard-issue spears the GSA used for sparring. Wiping the water off my face, I took the opportunity to drink, pressing the lever with my foot like the way Nonsurat had done it and cupping my hands together to catch the water that shot out from the spout.

Then he turned to the building beyond the steel vault, where a figure clothed in gold-plated armor emerged from. Immediately, I recognized who it was.

"You have a visitor," Nonsurat said grimly. "He will be in charge of your training until afternoon. Got it?"  
>That was a statement that definitely required a response; I had no choice but to reply. "Yes, Sir."<p>

Sir Arthur came marching towards the track, and remained unnoticed by the rest of the Squad. It was as if he was meaning to keep it a secret, even though Nonsurat had boldly announced that I would be doing something...different, instead of sparring with the Squad. When he strode past the chain-link fence with a rattle of the lock, only then did Jecra and a few others suspiciously turn their heads in my direction. From the corner of my eye I saw them whisper to each other, as if they were discussing what Nonsurat and Arthur had been plotting—or as if they were plotting something themselves.

Arthur seemed to notice this, but he paid no heed to it. Instead, he gave a silent salute to Nonsurat, and Nonsurat did as well. No words needed to be exchanged; it seemed as if they had planned this out previously.

He came to me, then, noticing my beaten, tired appearance and the depleted Warp Star affixed on my headband, and what I thought was the feeling of sympathy seemed to seep from him.  
>"Come with me, Meta," he said, speaking every word with finality. "I wish to show you the full purpose of why you are here...and what you have in store within you."<p>

* * *

><p>At the checkerboard lair of creation, Nightmare found himself in a serious predicament.<p>

Before him was the magenta wolf, prowling around in circles and looking for something to burn. Nightmare had foreseen this, and had taken away all other distractions and moved them to another board. The checkerboards were definitely fireproof, and Nightmare himself was flame-retardant, also. For a dream, an idea, cannot burn and be set aflame.

The wolf growled, scratching at the ground, its claws itching for something to slash at. It did not even lower its head in the prescence of its master. And Nightmare himself was honestly surprised; never before had he been forced to take disciplinary actions like this. Now, for the first time, he wondered what the demon beast trainers were doing with his monsters. He himself had created them, but they were made to function individually and bestowed with the limited ability to create other works—and it was creation through training the things that he made. But how they did it...as much as he didn't want to admit it, Nightmare did not fully know.

_They were harsh_; he knew that. Harsh from the very start, straight out of the womb, harsh they grew up, and harsh they were when the time came for them to kill. It was a good system, and it worked every single time. Well, _nearly_ every single time. Was it ever possible to be _too _harsh on something? Especially if that 'something' was a demon beast? And furthermore, if said demon beast was made with the intention to be one of the harshest weapons available in his war-machine product line?

Nightmare let the thought sit as he spectated the feral wolf, as it yipped like a dog and barked at some imaginary, invisible full moon. He examined, carefully, his plan of action. Although easily he could have penetrated into its mind and gouged out all the signs of rebellion, and even more easily, put the darned thing to death, he decided to take little steps first. Yes...little steps, baby steps. Hopefully it would work.

_**"Sit, boy...sit!"**_

His voice echoed in the darkness, and he was surprised how reedy and..._feminine_ his voice sounded when he was not in the prescence of a fully sentient being. There was no need for show here; to be firm was the only requirement.  
>Still, his command was dissonant in the wolf's ears. He called out again, this time bringing down his fist near the place where the wolf lay waiting for something to rip apart.<br>This time, it heard, but only for a short moment. The wolf had understood the simple command and so he sat, only to get up a moment later in disinterest. Nightmare sighed and sliently mocked himself for his own stupidity. Something was preventing him from going full-force on this monster. Normally, he would be the one pulling the strings. He would be ruthless, ruthless so that his creations could learn from his ways and be willed into submission out of fear. But this time, there was something blocking him from doing that...and he could not put a finger on what it was. This placed him, to put it lightly, in a very tight bind.

"Wolfwrath, SIT!"

The monster craned its head upwards. _Now _Nightmare had control! Going personal and using names instead of numbers had done him well, and he wouldn't have met any success with calling the monster Chilidog. He took the opportunity to dive into the monster's mind, to peer into its subconscious state and read what it had in store.

Nightmare's ability to enter minds was a strange one. He could only fully have control over the minds of his own creations, but his power did extend to life forms that did not belong to him, although his influence was greatly diminished. In other words, he could perform inception, so to speak—the act of instilling ideas through people's dreams—in most living beings. His ongoing game of chess with Meta came to mind; it was a good example of the fullness of his power.

When he entered Wolfwrath's subconscious, it was like taking a trip down to the nine levels of Hell. The outer circle was mildly toasty, the middle levels were blisteringly hot, and down at the very end...it was like the core of a supergiant sun. Nothing but only the most atrocious of atrocities lay within the demon beast. He saw again what he had planted—the screams of pain and agony, the fear of war, of genocide, of the utter ruthlessness and barbarism that humanity was capable of. What he assumed was right—not even a conscience resided inside it!  
>As Nightmare reached into these things and burrowed even further, he couldn't help but let out the twisted grin that splayed over his features. <em>Yes...this was what he was capable of! <em>Not just Nightmare himself...but the demon beast also. And Nightmare realized that all of the things he was seeing in the subconscious of his creation...could become reality. _Yes..._this monster was a walking armageddon.

Wolfwrath had the power of all the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse combined, and was capable of dealing out even more damage. This beast could conquer. It could wage war. _It could pillage whole star systems and leave any survivors slowly starving to death._ And, most of all...it could kill.

Nightmare withdrew himself, and he was pleased. He was pleased at the outcome of his work, pleased with the way he'd made it from the start.

What he had found was beyond his **expectations. **Far, far beyond what he was expecting to see. And in his core the anticipation of conquest fueled him and made him stronger; the grin on his face grew wider at the thought of it. Alhough he had no need to speak, because no one was there to listen, he spoke anyway—and the invisible walls of his lair shook under his booming, omnipotent voice.

_**"It is good, the way it is. It is very, very good."**_

* * *

><p><strong>-Meta-<strong>

The sounds of Nonsurat's omnipotent orders and the grunts of the Squad as they followed them slowly began to fade away.

I had no idea where Arthur was taking me, nor did I know what he planned to do to me when we got there. All that I knew was that I was extremely grateful for him rescuing me from that amount of physical torture. Guided by the direction of the rising sun, we were heading east towards a great forest not unlike the kind back home, away from the noise of civilization.  
>We crossed a small wooden bridge with fading red paint, and the trickling sound of the stream beneath it hit me with a wave of nostalgia. It brought me memories of summer, those lazy days in which I'd spent doing absolutely nothing except find peace in a tranquil forest like this. Although my biological clock was looking forward to experiencing winter around this time, it seemed that this planet, Ripple Star, was a few months behind and well into summer.<br>After the bridge was a winding dirt path that took us into the depths of the forest, and I followed Sir Arthur as he guided me through the bends and forks of the path, deeper and deeper and farther and farther away from the entrance. I looked up, and the tall canopy of trees rustled as the wind rustled them gently. These trees were taller than the ones in the forest I knew, mostly because the soil and the nutrition here was probably a lot better. Birds sang to complete the trance of tranquility. It was truly a breathtaking place to be in.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sir Arthur turned to me and watched as I walked with him, transfixed by the wonders enveloping me.  
>I nodded. "I have never seen such a beautiful place in my life."<br>Arthur chuckled, and it was the first time I ever heard him do so. "Such is the beauty of being a soldier, Meta, my boy. There are many more beautiful things on Ripple Star, and it is just another gem of a planet among many others like it. When it's time for you to soar among the stars, you will find many other planets like this. There will be many _utopias _among the _stars."_

His gaze shifted to the ground, and his voice grew dark. "But...in the universe, there are many barren places as well. There are planets where war has already claimed them, where mankind has already destroyed themselves...places where Nightmare has already won. The stench of war is something that I am far too familiar with. And someday, when you are fully prepared for it, you will find places like that, as well."

Arthur let the thought sit for a moment, and it left me feeling grim – sad, even. What would it be like if Ripple Star became a casualty of war as well? I had only recently come here, and already, I loved the planet. The people here were sweet and kind, and the landscape was as well. The native race even got along with the establishment of the Galaxy Soldier Army – and that, by itself, was wondrous enough.  
>But what I loved the most was how even the air had a taste here – back home, it did, too – but the air here was special. It was as if the special magic in the air made the plants grow taller and the sky shine brighter and the people more loving. I took a deep, loud breath and found that the taste wasn't part of my imagination. It was really there!<p>

Arthur chuckled again, relaxing his stance. "Ah, you noticed it, too?"

"What?" I asked.

"The air," he replied. "The taste of the air!"

"What about it?"

"What do you think it tastes like, Meta?"

I thought about it for a while. "I don't know. I was never good at making comparisons. But if I had to...I'd say, it tastes like...fruit."

"Hm, fruit? Or something sweet, like sugar? It's the smell of _stardust_, Meta. There is nothing sweeter than that essence."

I allowed myself to have a thin smile. It was indeed a good feeling.

Here at this point in the path the trees began to thin out, and there were more clearings where the sun's rays penetrated down to the forest floor. In these clearings, I noticed that some of them had platforms built into the trees surrounding them, and a complex system of ladders and ropes that connected them. Many times I saw loops in the trees that looked like they were tied as if set up for a hangman's noose. The entire system of contraptions up in those treetops bore a resemblance to something straight from a torture chamber – however, I was wise enough to keep that snide comment to myself.

"You're looking at the high ropes course," Sir Arthur explained, as if he knew exactly what I was wondering about at the moment. "This is not our destination today, but soon, I guarantee that you will use it."  
>He let me stare up at the hooks and pulleys that strung the ropes together among the high branches for a little while longer until he beckoned me to follow him further. "Let us continue, Meta. We aren't far from the place."<br>I obliged and we continued down the path, but I found myself fascinated at how tall the platforms were. It reminded me of my desire, the thrill I found in being up in high places. And he promised that I'd be going on it someday! Definitely, I would look forward to it—the feeling of standing up in platforms as tall as those trees, soaring through the canopy. The thought of it thrilled me.

At the very end of the path, the brush cleared and I found myself at a clearing paved with stone and brick. At the center was an altar-like stone pedestal, where a short double-edged sword lay tip-down, embedded at the top. But the little sword-pedestal was not the focus of the clearing. It lay by the base of a flight of stone steps that led to a brown oracle-like statue nearly as tall as the trees. A wise-looking face was carved into it, the jaw made to slide open and move like a talking mouth. From the oracle was a tiny stream, a little trickle of flowing water that collected in an aqueduct that ran through the perimeter of the clearing and fed the brook that snaked through the forest.

"What...is that?"

Sir Arthur left my side and leapt up on top of the pedestal, grasping the hilt of the embedded sword and lifting it up, pointing it to the oracle behind him.  
>"This is Kabu the ancient Sage...a collector of wisdom and the place where weary Star Warriors find rest. He will be an important part of your journey as a warrior."<br>Arthur retrieved the sword and planted it back in its spot on the pedestal, returning down to the ground with a flick of his cape.

"...But first! I will present you a challenge to make you prepared for seeking Kabu's help. You still have the training knife, yes?"

I reached into the pouch on my belt and took out the yellow-handled switchblade that Atelier gave me, rotating out the blade with a _click. _"Is this it?"

"Yes. It will prove to be very useful to you. Your mission, Meta...is to retrieve the sword behind me. Once you can best me in combat with it, you will be worthy of wielding the sword. There are no limits to how you can attempt to obtain it. The only condition is that you may not, under no circumstances, resign or give up. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well, then. On the count of three, your mission begins. One..."

My muscles tensed, my feet digging into the cobblestone pavement for a foothold. The two-edged sword was so tantalizingly close, yet so intimidatingly far away. The silver blade's surface winked in the sunlight, as if it was taunting me, calling me to come and grab it. I frowned and tightened the headband tied around my forehead, feeling the Warp Star as it began to surge again with its rising aura of power, swelling up within me as my eyes lit up with fire.

_"...Two..."_

I curled my right hand around the knife with anticipation as I searched for the quickest path to the pedestal. It was much taller than me, so somehow I'd have to round off to the side, run up the stairs that led to Kabu, and by some means get a running start and take a leap of faith to snatch the sword down by the hilt.

_"...Three!"_

Adrenaline kicked in and I burst forward, building up momentum in hopes of taking a running jump straight at the edge of the platform. However, there was one thing I didn't factor in – Sir Arthur.

Right when I was about to jump, before I could even notice, he stuck his foot out in my path and sent me flying, and I painfully crashed in a heap onto the base of the stone steps. _Ouch_...I grimaced, shaking off the dust and retrieving my knife from the Meta-sized dent in the stairway.

"Don't let one failure distract you!" he shouted. "Go for another approach!"

I stood up and held the knife in both hands. Arthur was right – recklessness and blind charging would not help me at all. Instead, I waited at the foot of the stairs, strategizing. _Hm..._Sir Arthur had asked me if I still had the training knife, but it had no proper use to me now. But if he'd mentioned it...then surely, it was relevant enough to have a use. Cautiously, I examined Arthur's armor – the golden, scowling helmet with a green plume attached to it, the spiked pauldrons, the pointed spaulders, and the elaborate scabbard, where his sword lay dormant..._That was it_! If I could somehow disarm him and put him at a disadvantage, I could use his sword to reach up to the pedestal and use it to knock my prize off it. Then there wouldn't even have to _be_ a fight!

It was Arthur who approached me instead, throwing off my calculations slightly. My plan would only work at a certain range. Arthur coming up to me was actually something done in _my _favor, and I was sure he was meaning to give me an advantage. Since he had possession of the longer weapon, I would be put in the position to approach him.

_Good_, I'd strategized enough. Arthur was now in front of the pedestal, on the side that faced the stairs and Kabu. He stood five feet away from me, analyzing my every twitch and sway.  
>I lunged again, this time at an angle. I faked a move to the right, then swung at Arthur's left, where the hilt of his sword lay unguarded. He jumped back, unfazed by the trick I tried to pull off, and when I swung at him with the knife, he merely stepped back at every swing, as if he was taunting me for my lack of range.<p>

"Mix up your moves! That was a good fakeout at the beginning, but do more! Try to catch me off guard!"

I paused for a little longer than I should have, letting him get away a little farther beyond range. What should I do? There had to be _some _way I could safely close the gap between him and the spot where I was standing. My eyes darted around again and I found that the pedestal was now completely unguarded. This was my chance! Without taking my eyes off Arthur I ran sideways to it, running full tilt when he noticed me coming.  
>I almost had it – I was just about to reach for the ledge and swing myself up when a gauntleted hand knocked me down. Arthur pinned me to the ground and stomped on my right arm, disarming me of my weapon.<p>

"What will work, if surprise doesn't?"

My free hand grabbed at Arthur's sword, but he batted my hand away with a slap, turning my body over on the side. Reflexes came to life and I kicked at his hand, tipping him by the slightest off his balance. I rolled back up to snatch my knife and we stood five feet away from each other again, holding my weapon ready at a standoff.

"You almost had it, Meta, you _almost _had it...try it again!"

I scowled; this was getting frustrating! But I couldn't give up; it would kill my pride and Arthur had forbidden it as well. The only option I had was to press on, in a different way than before.

Attacking again, this time I varied my approaches, striking to the upper right and quickly slashing down, turning full-circle to jab at the left, and when the gap was closed in, I reached for Arthur's sword again. Doing so only led to me falling flat on my face again, tripped during a misstep in my variation.

"Never turn your back to the enemy. Keep going, go _straight in for me_, get creative!"

Once more I went at it, and my strength was slipping. And I was losing...desperately. I was ready to do _anything _to disarm Arthur, and in turn, seize the sword on the pedestal. But wait a minute—Arthur never applied any rules or conditions, as long as I agreed not to give up. But that meant anything was allowed here; the only limit was ideally how crafty I could be at retrieving it. My mind raced for options, and the only one I found was one I had abandoned from the very beginning, because it was the most dirty, underhanded trick I ever imagined. But it was an option nonetheless.

"Excuse me, Sir," I said in my most falsely honest voice. "May we pause for a drink? I'm rather thirsty right now."

"Sure, Meta, the water from the stream over there is..."

I took off mid-sentence, and adrenaline kicked into overdrive. The stairs were too far away for my original plan to work. Without breaking stride I glanced backwards and saw Arthur not far behind. This was it, now! One big leap of faith was the only thing that was between me and the sword. I dropped the training knife and jumped, grabbing onto the ledge with both hands, swinging myself up with the aid of momentum and there I was, at the top of my two-foot mountain, as I dislodged the sword and pointed it skywards in triumph.

"Congrats, Meta!" Arthur called from down below as he watched me beam with pride. "But you mustn't forget that this isn't over—"

Before he was finished speaking, he withdrew his sword from its sheath and slashed at my feet in one swift motion, drawing a thin horizontal gash that knocked me down headfirst. I landed backwards with the sword an inch away from impaling my head, and a trickle of blood now seeped from both my feet. But the sword was mine!

I seized my prized new weapon and brandished it awkwardly. Yet, the second my hands closed around it, I knew that this weapon was meant for _me _to wield _– _and mine oval-shaped guard that separated the blade from the hilt was a bright gold color, not unlike the hue of Sir Arthur's armor, and its balance made the sword light as a feather, an extension of my own arm with nerves and senses of its own. The blade had a range longer than my height – and for the ensuing battle, it was perfect.

Arthur drew his sword across his body, parallel to the ground. A thin thread of blood – my blood – gathered at the golden sword's cutting edge."Well done, Meta. However, by my mercy and the honor of all soldiers, I will not attack an unarmed opponent. And as you are now armed, I will attack you. And I will not hold back."

I readied myself as Arthur approached, now amused at my sense of wit. "The tactic you just devised was a good move. It was nothing honorable, but it was effective, and on the battlefield, that's all that matters!"  
>He thrust his sword in my direction, lashing out a trail of red dots that led to where I stood. "...And if you can be cunning, then I, too, will put up an equal fight."<p>

Before I could ground myself he attacked, and the sound of our ensuing duel soon echoed across the clearing. Metal met metal as our weapons clanged together, forcing me to defend myself.

"Be alert! Guard your openings and see if you can strike through me!"

I grunted, the tip of my blade wavering in uncontrollable arcs as my body shuddered from the force of his previous blow. Trying to steady myself, I clenched the hilt with both fists, waiting for him to strike, looking for openings as more slashes and thrusts danced before my eyes.

He struck – no, wait, _what was this_? – but instead of striking right away, he made as if to thrust my right shoulder but instead threaded through and slashed downwards, catching onto the hilt of my sword, pressing us together as our blades locked. Arthur leaned in, rotating his weapon parallel to the ground, my wrists folding back at angles and levels of discomfort I hadn't ever known were physically possible, and still he leaned in further, close enough for me to feel the cold aura of his metal armor, his helmet pressing against my skin – and whispered:

"_You let your guard down."_

In a single swift motion he let go of his hold on me, disengaging his blade and batting me to the right, his footing firmly rooted, stance strong and unyielding.

Panting, my defenses quickly weakened and I hung loose to my side, to which Arthur reacted by striking me with the flat of his weapon, beating me down until he drop-kicked me across the clearing to the base of the pedestal, where I lay defeated.

Arthur loomed over me, fluidly turning his wrist and thrusting once more, the edge of his sword stopping an inch away from my heart.  
>"Had I angled the blade like this...you would have been sliced in half."<p>

My hands kneaded into the ground for support. Blood from the fresh wounds opened on my forehead dripped to the ground like tears. Then I panicked, struggling to breathe as if my lungs were being trampled – maybe because I was spitting on my pride, maybe because it was the first time I'd seen, tasted, and smelled the feeling of having my own blood drawn. _Tc__h..._Leaning on the sword for support, I struggled to get up, stumbling forward and fighting with everything in me to disarm Sir Arthur.

I swung, blindly. And each and every strike was parried and countered with ease by the General. I was only tiring myself out, now. But where would I be...when everything in me ran out?

Arthur saw me lose my footing and he tripped me again, this time with an angled strike that I dodged but failed to recover from. And this time I fell facefirst, staggering and splashing into the cold aqueduct, my cheeks tearing up on the rocks and my mouth kissing the dirt.

"Why won't you use it?"

I opened my eyes and found myself half-submerged in the water, the stream flowing red from where I lay, and my defeated, battered reflection that stared back. The Warp Star looked even worse than what it had looked like on the track. _Nn__gh_...My mouth hung open and let in a thin trickle of fresh water. It was sweet and refreshing, like Arthur was just about to tell me before I cut him off.  
>I was not built for this. Even when I had the chance with a weapon, I could not fight. Even when the blade was recovered, even when I stretched myself to my very limits without considering my pride as a living being, even when the person I was fighting <em>let me<em> win. And I still couldn't –!

"Use it!" Arthur called out from the top of the pedestal.

If I let my self-worth go, then I could do the same with my anger. And now a feral, beastly snarl furrowed my brow, making my body rigid and my expression crooked.

"Use _WHAT?"_

"Look inside of you, Meta. If you can find what remains inside you, trust it and you can certainly use it."

I grimaced and fought to keep control of myself, to keep the anger down and in check. _Look inside of me? _What, let him cut me open and spill my innards out so I could take a look at them? No...no. _No!_ I had to think rationally. Rationality was my biggest saving grace. I _had _to keep myself together!

My body surrendered itself to the stream, and I felt the overwhelming desire to fall asleep. The sound of the birds faded and they seemed to chirp a disconcerting melody at me.

_"Use it, use it, use the power..."_

_The power? _What power? My mind raced at the sound of power and searched for any memory attached to the word. ...And yes, there it was!

My eyes closed and I went back to the moment when Nonsurat had said that "I had no grasp of _using it._" That someone would come to me and explain what that meant...but it was not Nonsurat's role to explain it. That...

_...The mark of the Star Warriors was the power of the Stars themselves._

I almost laughed aloud at my blindness to the things that resided in me, that out of all the things I'd been blind to, out of all the things I'd failed to realize, I had forgotten what I was. Not _who _I was—_what _I was. And the star on my headband proved it.

My body slipped away from my mind. I could feel myself wavering in and out of conscience, farther away from my physical body and closer to the star that was at my core. I could barely see it, but I knew it was there. I could feel its aura resonating, the quiet, beckoning feeling that surged with overwhelming power. _Power! _

Without the slightest hesitation, I reached for the star, and the star reached back until I grasped it in my hands and we became one. Consciousness came back to me and I strode forward, out of the ditch and back to the battlefield, sword in one hand and Warp Star in the other. I was marching towards the waiting Arthur and yet I could barely feel my own footsteps or hear my own words, as if I myself was ebbing away and it was the Warp Star speaking through my lips.

"I am a _soldier,_" I heard myself say. "I fight for glory, and the glory of the Stars alone. Nothing else can own me, nothing else can make me. And though I may face defeat, though I may lose my way, though I am imperfect in the battles I fight and the way I fight them—every time I am struck, I will get up again. Even if I am defeated, know this—that the glory of the Stars cannot be bested. Because I am..._**I am a Star Warrior!**_"

A brilliant flash of light pierced my eyes and I slashed through the air with all my might, and the crackle of electricity cut through the ground before me. When the dust settled and the noise cleared, I saw Sir Arthur, standing beside a deep rift in the ground that began at my feet and ended at the edge of the forest, his right gauntlet singed and his sword lying on the opposite end of the still-sparkling dirt.

He stared at me in absolute shock, then to his hand, then to the sword and back to me again. I stood across from him, transfixed in disbelief of what I had just done. I had retrieved the sword, persevered all the way through, and successfully disarmed him – and had therefore completed my mission.

"...S-Sword Beam?" Arthur stammered. "But...that's unthinkable, especially from a new warrior so young...Meta...you found it! And you have finally realized the reason why you are here."

Arthur got up and dusted himself off, retrieving his weapon and placing it back to its spot in his scabbard.

"I...I'm sorry, Sir, if I caused any trouble—"

He walked over to the knife I dropped near the pedestal, retrieving it and handing it to me with the blade neatly retracted. "Sorry? You just achieved the greatest technique on the battlefield known to Star Warriors...and you are _sorry_? There's nothing to be sorry for, Meta. If anything, you should be thankful. Proud, even. Not in yourself, but of the power that made it happen. The power of which you are now a vessel of. You are filled with the glory of the Stars, and through it, in it, you fight and take flight and do everything you need to win. And today you proved to me that against all odds, against all reason...you can think of a way to emerge victorious."

"If I did...I didn't think I could do it, Sir."

"But you did. And because of that, you should never doubt yourself again, Meta. The moment you doubt yourself, you put a lock on what you believe you can achieve. And as long as you will it to be real, and believe that it can happen...you will be an unstoppable warrior, Meta."

He returned to me, extending to me an outstretched hand, even though I was standing upright and back within my own senses. But this hand was not one to help me up, it was one of congratulation. And I took it – and for the first time since that morning, I smiled. And though I could not see, somehow, I could feel, that beneath his cold golden armor, Arthur smiled too.

"Now let us enter Kabu, so he may heal you and your Warp Star."

The two of us went up the steps and were about to approach the great oracle's interior until Arthur stopped me again.

"Oh, and Meta?"

"What is it, Sir?"

"That sword...it belongs to you now. Because the glory of the Stars is in you, you have proven yourself worthy of wielding it. You are indeed Meta, my boy. For I chose you and gave you that name with this purpose in mind. You have truly gone _beyond_ my **expectations."**

* * *

><p>Arthur turned around and we faced the monument he called Kabu, looming above us on a pedestal of its own. Closer to it now, I noticed that it was built on a raised platform of white marble bricks, grayed by age and dappled with moss that grew in splashes over its sides. He had only briefly described this place earlier this morning as "a place where weary Star Warriors find rest", but every other mystery about it remained unknown to me.<p>

"How does that work?" I asked him. And cleverly, his answer was, "You'll find out inside."

Together we walked up each stone step, still crushed with a Meta-sized dent as a result of today's duel. And I hoped it would serve to me as a permanent reminder – not of the initial defeat, but of the great lengths I came to earn the sword at my belt and achieve my victory. Arthur beside me, I stood at the summit, looking up at the giant stone oracle with carved out eyes and a mouth that loomed over us, silently watching us, beckoning us to enter.

"But where's the entrance?"

Wordlessly, he pointed to a dark, empty window built into the oracle's pedestal – a rectangular doorway, its interior shrouded in darkness. That was our entrance, and we approached it, my curious eyes peering inside and seeing nothing but the air of what seemed to be an empty crypt.

I was about to pass the threshold when Arthur put his hand in the way, stopping me from walking in.

"Sheathe your weapon, soldier. From this threshold on is sacred territory. And you must be prepared to enter."  
>From within the folds of his cape he produced a leather scabbard, offering it to me for the new weapon I'd acquired. "Fasten this onto your belt."<p>

I did as he told and affixed the scabbard to my belt, the tough, brown leather a perfect fit at my side, although a little too large for my size. It weighed down to my left, my body unaccustomed to the imbalance of weight. Eagerly my hand clasped around its fitted metal throat, peering into the soft cloth that reinforced it inside. Then, with a sense of finality, I crossed my right hand over my body, sword in hand, and slid the deadly weapon into its sleek and spotless confine with a metallic _hhshink._

"Let's go."

Arthur was the first to disappear into the doorway, and I followed behind him, stepping foot onto a carved stone stairway that descended into Kabu's inner depths. Watching him as far as I could see in front of me, I laid a hand on the wall to the left and cautiously reached the bottom. Furtively, I sniffed the air, and it was old and musty, moldy. Yet, still, as old as it was, the air here was still fresh. Energizing, but in a different way then the air of Ripple Star was. Breathing this air was a kind that was reinvigorating, energizing – as if being here in its presence would already halfway make me feel stronger. Hopeful.

When we reached the bottom, my eyes adjusted to the dark and at the base of the stairs I could see the rough shape of an altar, symbols and shapes of an ancient language I could not understand etched into the stone wall. In the center of the room was a marble platform, a lattice of firewood on top of it, waiting to be lit.

"You are now in the sacred solace of the Stars, Meta. This is the interior of Kabu."

I stood in awe, venturing around the small space, soaking in my surroundings and taking them in like a sponge. As I placed my hand on the marble platform, I was startled by the ensuing grating noise of stone sliding against stone. Looking up to the source of the sound, I saw the oracle's stone mouth slide open, and a thin shaft of light penetrated the darkness, reaching down to illuminate the firewood and bathe it in a firey glow. I realized that, in fact, Kabu _did _know that we were here. Then, just to prove my assumption all the more, a booming, arcane voice came to life.

"**The all-knowing Kabu has woken."**

"Y-you speak?" I asked aloud, now acknowledging that Kabu was a sentient being_, _not an _it.  
><em>**"Yes, soldier, I do speak. But there is much more that I am capable of. Come to me, Warrior of the Stars...and I will give you rest."**

Arthur joined me by the side of the pedestal, motioning for me to watch him. I did, silent as he was, as he clasped a hand around the scabbard of his sword and drew his weapon, holding it perpendicular to the ground, the blade hovering between his eyes, gleaming and reflecting the streaming shaft of sunlight. As if saluting Kabu above, he pointed the tip of his sword to the Warp Star affixed to his armor, and, guiding it over to the firewood in an arc, almost visibly transferred a spark of light from the Warp Star through the tip of his sword and set the wood afire.

"The sword beam," he noted, carefully sheathing his weapon, "has a delicate side to it as well." And simply by observing him I understood this, the way Arthur drew the Warp Star's power from within him, concentrated it into his sword, and released just enough – a little, tiny spark was all he needed – and making it tangible, just a single, tiny spark was all he needed to make the fire blaze. The smoke rose up through the doorway and the shaft above the pedestal – Kabu's open mouth – and soared into the late noon sky.

"Come," Arthur beckoned, and I followed him to the far wall of the room, where the stone surface of the altar lay. Only now did I notice the circular indent etched into the polished white marble...and a star-shaped depression within it. Again, Arthur was silent, still solemn and quiet, waiting for me to figure out the meaning of the star cut into the stone. But somehow, without anyone telling me...something within me told me what I ought to do. For a moment it felt as if the diminished Warp Star itself detached from the headband on my forehead, floating down in my open palm and locking in place, a perfect fit made to fill the space the cut into the stone.

...And then instantly, every shadow in the room was blown away.

A ring of golden light circled around the five points of my Warp Star, gleaming with an audible glow. Twinkling, the ring lifted, and my tired, faint Warp Star began to spin – each revolution brushing off an impurity in my body, sending off the dirt and the dust and channeling it up into the air, where it joined and united with the smoke of the fire and were exhaled out through Kabu's mouth and into the world outside.

I held my arms up against the light, my stance knocked back by the initial explosive blast that lifted my Warp Star up into the air. A wave of lightheadedness washed over me, making me feel weightless and dizzy, almost as if Kabu was doing the same to my body as he was to my Warp Star. It rose, higher and higher, each turn giving it a brighter color and returning to me newfound strength. Gradually, the Warp Star climbed to its highest height, and slowly, quietly, descended to the earth and floated back into my open palm.

I looked at the Warp Star, its yellow light reflecting the warmth of the fire behind me, now slowly blazing away into orange embers. At the base of the stairs, Arthur stood, a nod of approval in my direction. But all that mattered to me now were the words I needed to exchange between me, my Warp Star, and Kabu himself – and everything else in the world became inaudible.

"Kabu." I lifted my eyes up to the high depths of the all-knowing oracle. "You know all, and you see all. So tell me. What kind of road lies ahead for me?"

"**A road of many perils, young warrior. But a road that you must travel...and exceed your _expectations."_**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: 46/12**

Content notes:  
>- Special thanks and recognition to a friend who helped me out with most of Nonsurat's training regime...without him, most of the following chapters wouldn't be possible.<p>

- The detail of Meta blacking out on the track is actually a scene lifted out of my own experiences...albeit with a little creative license added to it. It's true that in most cases when you black out, the sky _does_ turn purple and the grass _does_ turn fluorescent yellow-green. Your eyes are open, but you can't see anything. Hanging your head between your legs also _does_ help you get your vision back. It''s a really weird sensation.

- Exploring a lot of things (specifically **e**xpectations) was the highlight of this chapter, mainly the interactions between Sir Arthur & Meta, and mostly the specifics of Nightmare's powers. Not a lot of details were given in the anime, so most of the things he can do here (like inception, for instance) was solely my creative license. And that's where my role comes into play, to elaborate on these things. I hope you found all these extra details fitting!

- There is whole deal of foreshadowing here, particuarly in the Nightmare portions and Sir Arthur's dialogue – so...if you do identify any, look forward to watching them unfold later on in the story.

**4/6/13**: It's been nearly a year since I first wrote this chapter...and I've finally added the scenes (some elaboration in Arthur and Meta's duel, and the entire Kabu healing sequence) I've been meaning to include since the day this chapter was published.

With the addition of these scenes, I'd realized something that I hadn't known previously:  
>One of the things that happened during my miniature hiatus of updating (I say updating, because I've still been writing regardless of my absence here), is that I picked up a sport completely from scratch. Was probably just as new to the idea of it as Meta was to fighting when he joined the GSA, heh. But, yes, warpy now fences! Went through an entire school season and I hadn't told anyone here yet...and I'm now even a part of a squad, too.<p>

But the thing I noticed was when I looked back and reread Meta and Sir Arthur's duel, which I'd written almost an entire year before I thought I'd ever have the chance to touch a sword in my life. And then it suddenly dawned on me that – down to the very descriptions of Meta's feints when he fights against Arthur, in a scene that I wrote without a single experience of armed one-on-one combat – are legitimate strategies that I use to this very day.


	6. Evil Arises

**Author's Note: 4/14/12**

Me, deprive this section of an actual, legitimate, wholesome story that takes time to write? Never!  
>I've been noticing a severe <em>decline<em> lately in the quality of the fics that have been popping up lately. It's frustrating, and a little unfair, if you ask me—since I highly doubt that most people who are posting now have spent this much effort into writing what they write.

But regardless of that, though, even if I'm the last person in the world who still does take the time and the effort to produce quality writing, I'd still do it.

**Content notes: **I already had this chapter's prologue written before I published the fifth chapter. Initially I was going to have the following prologue for chapter 5, but then I found that it only made sense for Wolfwrath to be introduced before he got sent out on the battlefield. Will Meta cross paths with him soon? That's a good question.

With that said, enjoy.

* * *

><p><em>"Pawn to D3."<em>

The two opponents were back on their checkered battlefield again, resuming their game of chess. On the black side was Nightmare and his legion of demon beasts, and on the white side, Meta and the Galaxy Soldier Army. They had made many moves since the first time Meta had been invited to the game. And now the basis of the game was developing, the pieces were moving out of their neat little rows and spreading out in preplanned formation, finding the quickest route to set up, trap and capture the opposing side's king.

Nightmare propped up his elbows on the playing field, the rest of his body too large to be seen by Meta, and his arms blended into the expanse of swirling, all-encompassing stars. Neither of the two did as much as twiddle their thumbs or stomp their foot in impatience, for fear of showing any weakness.  
><em>Foolish,<em> Nightmare thought, as he grasped his left bishop between his thumb and index finger, sliding it down on a diagonal to the white square in the middle of the board. Meta's own inexperience had led him to play too defensively, and he did not even have the foresight to read Nightmare's moves or seek to exploit his agressiveness.  
>Both of them had not yet lost pieces, but in terms of setup, Nightmare had the higher ground. A black bishop and pawn were already occupying the two center squares, ready to attack.<br>His plan was to get control of the center, where he could snipe off Meta's valuable pieces and finally set him up in checkmate. It would definitely take some time, but he had little faith that Meta would be able to stand a chance against any strategy.  
>Although much as he wanted to defeat the boy then and there, he decided to leave his queen where it was. A quickly-ended, easy battle was never a fun battle. He could afford to let Meta learn through experience, struggle a little in front of him, and finally defeat him once he was tired out. And plus, even while going at a fraction of full force, he could still win with a breeze.<p>

_**"Rook to A6."**_

Meta watched as Nightmare placed the piece down on its respective square, studying its features. This was the monster that had attacked him from the very beginning—the robotic one with the mace and the silver cross etched into its body. How long ago that moment seemed—it was as if he'd been with the GSA his entire life already—but in reality, it was only a matter of several weeks ago, maybe a month before, since he'd come into the prescence of the Stars.  
>As Nightmare retracted his bony fingers, Meta scanned the rest of the opposing ranks and saw details that he'd never noticed before. Some of them were brighter than before, as if they suddenly had life breathed into them. Now most of them gleamed with an ominous, ethereal glow, matching the brightness inside most of the pieces in his own ranks.<p>

Meta shrugged this off and carefully took his left knight to F3. Looking carefully at its features, he saw that the piece's spherical body was a mottled, grayish blue color, brandishing a double-edged sword above its head. It was then he realized that _it was him. _The knight was made in _his _likeness, shaped after his form. And he'd deliberately put himself out on the battlefield, out onto an approaching onslaught of monsters.

But it was final. All moves were final, by Nightmare's rules. The best he could do was play out his mistake and act as if he was planning to do so. And thus.._._the white Knight made his first move on the chessboard.

_**"I wouldn't be so sure about that move, if I were you." **_Nightmare's voice boomed out over the board. **_"But alas, rules are rules. Plan to play accordingly."_**

He reached for his right knight and moved it out to B6, and Meta could not hide the shiver of fear that ran through him.

Before him was the magenta wolf—fearsome and fire-wreathed as the gateway to Hell. He'd seen the piece at least once, but when it was dormant. Now it felt alive, the bright green gem on its forehead gleaming audibly—and for a short split-second it was as if he could hear the gnashing of its teeth.  
>And that made him wonder: what made these pieces feel so alive? He glanced back at the Galaxy Soldier Army and he saw that all of the pieces with Warp Stars on them had the same kind of 'life' breathed into them, save for a few pawns that held an exception. Perhaps—were these pieces based off the people themselves? Maybe they were like voodoo dolls, with movements that corresponded and dictated the movements of the image-bearer, in which the piece was made in their likeness. If so, then that put Meta's last move onto a higher level of risk more than anything else—if that knight on F3 was taken out...what would become of him?<p>

He looked at his knight, the magenta wolf, and back to his knight again, with fear in his eyes. And Nightmare picked up on his reaction, chuckling to himself and stifling a bout of laughter with his open palm.

_**"Let us stop here for today. It has been fun—but surely, the game will pick up speed soon enough."**_

And as he finished speaking Meta disappeared, dissolving into the endless framework of stars, leaving the reality he visited in his dreams and returning back to the reality he lived out by the day. When he was completely sure the boy was gone, Nightmare craned his head back and roared in delight, swiping at the air with his outspread fingers.

_**"Cower in fear, boy! Yes, cower and weep to your heart's content! Bow to my mercy for sparing you of an early death! Muahahahaa!"**_

Gasping for breath in the riles of laughter, Nightmare caught his sanity back and drew in a series of long, deep breaths, calming himself down. But the feeling of anger, of hatred and all of those repulsive things...still remained.

_"Meta...you—and your army—will burn to the ground. Or...as I should say...**Meta** **Knight.**"_

And he, too, turned away and left the battlefield, leaving the ongoing game of chess behind.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: <strong>E<strong>vil Arises

**-Meta-**

That night, I could barely sleep.

It wasn't that I couldn't fall asleep—no, I was far too tired to be asleep at that point. Even after Kabu had worked his magic on my Warp Star, Arthur still pressed on with my training and pushed me to my absolute limits. We sparred, we ran; we did everything that Nonsurat had done to the majority of the Squad, except one-on-one. Pain and pride had no true meaning to me until that day. I now knew pain—because my own blood had been spilled to show me what it was—and I now knew pride—because through my suffering, it was lost. At least with Arthur, I had the privilige of only having him see me humiliated.

A shaft of Ripple Star's stardust-tasting moonlight seeped through a thin barred window on the opposite wall. These were real barracks we were in. No private one-roomed suites or run-down buildings; everyone in the Squad was put in the same room, stacked in claustrophobic bunks of three. We were all in the same predicament together. At least I had the luck to be assigned to the top bunk. While it would make my mornings harder to start, it'd give me the security of being high up at night.

I rolled over on my side, tossing the thin white sheets with my feet. A waxing crescent moon rose in the sky and dappled the patterns of the window panes onto the wall behind me. I yawned and switched positions countless times, trying to find sleep lying on my back, lying on either side, and finally lying facedown—but no sleep came. I tried calming my thoughts, but I had none in my mind at all. My brain felt strangely active, yet I was not even preoccupied with something at the moment. Slow seconds blended into minutes as I kicked the ceiling boards with my feet, twiddled my thumbs, and tried many other things, all in vain, to quiet myself down and will myself to sleep.  
>In desperation I reached for the belt that hung on my bedpost, slipping my hand into the pouch, and I emptied its contents onto the rickety spring mattress. There were only three things I had in my possession, currently, one recently added—the silver double-edged sword I'd earned from training, the knife, and the Warp Star. Of course, it was the Warp Star I was looking after. It had helped me sleep during even the most uncomfortable nights.<p>

I rolled over again, propping up my pillow so I could lie down and hold the star up to admire it. The way it caught the moonlight of Ripple Star compared to the way it reflected the candlelight that I had at home was no different. _Hmph._ I closed my fist around the Warp Star and tucked it back into the pouch along with the knife. I had to stop thinking about the past, now. Forgetting it was the only way to move forward. Sir Arthur himself had even said it earlier.

But my newfound train of thought was soon hijacked when the soldier in the bunk below me groaned and kicked the mattress above him, causing me to nearly drop my belt, Warp Star and all.

"_Psst. _Hey, Meta!" Jecra rasped. "So you're not the only one who's awake at this ungodly hour."

I nodded, and when I realized that he couldn't see me, I quickly whispered, "Yes."

"Hey...what in the world could be keeping you up for so long? You're not thinking about stuff again, are you?"

"..._No. _Not exactly. I just...can't sleep."

"Then you can try counting sheep. You ever heard of that before?"

"No, what is that?"

"It's when you imagine a flock of sheep in a pasture at night. You count them as they jump over a fence one by one, until you either get to a hundred or fall asleep. Got that? Try it, if you want."

"I will, thank you. Good night, Je-" I cut myself off, my lips stopping right at the first syllable of his name.

He didn't hear, and it was only until a matter of minutes when I heard him snoring gently under me again. I sighed, surrendering myself to the pillow and the bedsheets, trying the technique that Jecra had told me about. 'Counting sheep', he called it. What kind of culture had the urge to reccomend counting animals as a way to cure insomniacs? Oh, the insanity of society's imaginations! And partially, my inability to interpret idioms was part of what to blame, as well.  
>But at this rate, I was willing to do anything. So I closed my eyes, imagining dozens of fluffy white animals grazing in a hilly pasture, dancing over my closed eyelids and jumping over a fence.<br>_One...Two...Three..._It was useless. Soon enough, the flock of sheep grew horns and dark eyes, and instead of a fence, they leaped over hurdles on a track that was once the pasture. _Ugh..._I couldn't even imagine _sheep_ without thinking about the crazed training regime I was going through.

My hands reached for the Warp Star but found their way to the new sheath that was added to my belt—Arthur had given it to me as a safe way to keep my weapon. I grasped the hilt and slowly drew it out, the cold blade making a metallic, sharp noise as it scraped against the leather scabbard. Admiring the weapon I sat up straighter in bed, resting the flat of the blade in the palms of my hands. It was truly a beautiful sword; even in the dim moonlight, it shone as if it was reflecting the light of the sun. The golden pommel guarded my hand perfectly, as if it was fit for me to wield, and its balance made it light and agile, from every sharpened centimeter of the blade down to the keen point.  
>As I beheld the beauty of the weapon once more, turning it over and around with a gentle flick of my wrist, I noticed my reflection on the steel—the body as blue as the enveloping night; the white, tired eyes with a tint of yellow staring back at me.<p>

I regretted lying to Jecra about the fact that nothing was occupying my mind, although I could justify it by saying that it was merely a lie of omission. Truth be told, I _was_ very occupied with something. I knew I couldn't say anything about the chess game with Nightmare. Not to anyone, not even Jecra. Not even Sir Arthur knew about it. It was a thing that happened in my sleep; whether they were dreams or outright reality, I wasn't quite sure. Sometimes I was conscious, sometimes it felt like I was dreaming. But one way or the other, it _did _happen.  
>...And it haunted me. The way I manipulated the pieces—made to look so much like the comrades and leaders I was slowly beginning to build relationships with. I was always one who made good use of power—I liked it, but I never loved it. And the position I played in the chess game put me into an uncomfortable position, forcing me to make decisions that might as well be life-altering.<br>But that one piece—the one I'd looked to and had seen myself within it—that haunted me the most. The strange aura that glowed from within it, the unsettling and terrifying mixture of feelings I had when I had deployed it—_myself_—on the playing field. What would become of me? If my piece was captured, would I be killed too?

Suddenly, as the moon disappeared behind the clouds and wove its way out again, it all became clear to me. _This was my chance to prove that the chess game was real_. If the moves I made in the game corresponded with the happenings of reality, then it would definitely raise my levels of suspicion even further. But if they did not...I could simply stop taking my dreams seriously and just dismiss them as me being clinically delusional.

But still...it was worth a try. I still had to play by the rules, but nothing prevented me from experimenting with the boundaries. _Meta, the chessmaster..._I liked the sound of it. If I could not yet fight physically...then perhaps I could take part in the battle by fighting with my mind.  
>I shivered again, sheathing the sword and pulling the sheets back over my mouth and eyes. Testing my plan would have to wait until morning. For now, the only thing I could do was wait. And sleep, if I possibly could.<br>And so I sat dormant, waiting until the faint hours of morning when the moon sank down and the sun rose again.

* * *

><p>"All right, all right! Rise and shine, soldiers! Up on your feet!"<p>

I awoke out of the little sleep I could manage with a jump, the sharp sting of a klaxon ringing thrice in my ears. Out of reflex I grabbed my belt, kicking off the covers and fastening my belt on as I slid down the ladder on the top bunk, and my feet hit the ground running.  
>Fifteen minutes. That's all they gave you. Fifteen minutes for a man to snap out of it, hop out of his bunk, wipe the sleep off his face, shower, and get himself suited up and geared for action. Though it was only my second morning of true training, I'd already done this procedure a few times before. It was amazing, how there was no such thing as leisure in the Army. And for once, I liked it. I was never one to be bored, but the sheer fact of having something to work towards instead of lying around languidly all day was something new and refreshing.<p>

It's scary, how fifteen minutes can pass without you knowing it. And Nonsurat had said that these fifteen minutes of grace were still considered as sweet time. He said that in the real situation of war, the most any soldier could get was _five _minutes—and if you were lucky, three. On the battlefield, every minute mattered. One late soldier could result in the downfall of an entire platoon, and every single second mattered and could decide between life or death. So, for us, there were no excuses to be made. And definitely not if we couldn't get ready when given fifteen minutes to do so.

As usual, the new routine had gone by with the blink of an eye—and soon enough I was standing at axe-point in Nonsurat's ranks, holding a salute as stiff as a steel rod. We ran, this time increasing the number of laps to six. It was excruciating, especially because I could barely even manage four laps the day before—and now he was pushing the requirement to a mile and a half. Nevertheless, by conserving my energy and pushing my thoughts aside, I managed to step over the final finish line without feeling like I was going to die.  
>But it wasn't over yet—in Nonsurat's own words: hell no, it wasn't over. Now I could see firsthand what kind of physical torture the members of the Squad were susceptible to—and to an extent, his level of <strong>expectations <strong>as well.

It would be a long time until the morning meal—not until we'd stretched out every single muscle in our bodies and pushed ourself to the very limit. We sparred, we sprinted, and we were shouted at well into the morning. I managed well; only by shutting off my thought process did I get by without downright giving up or passing out. Granted, my reputation and pride was on the line. If I didn't want people to think I was weak, then I might as well make it a fact and a truth.  
>This mission statement got me far, but it was only until the final 'warmup' of the day when it was disproved. My muscles were sore, my core was dizzy, and I was holding onto pride and strength by a mere thread. And the tip of the axe ground into the sand of the equipment area, where the pull-up bars hung tall.<p>

"All right, you lot! Get on the bars and stay in pull-up position—you hear me? And once you're on, stay that way!"

I looked up vulnerably at the height of the bars—there was no way I could reach them, even if I jumped! And if I did manage to get on them, I wouldn't even be able to hold on for a minute. But regardless, there was no giving up here...and with a swing of my arms and a bold leap of faith, I caught onto the bars in a strong overhand grip.  
>This was easier than I'd expected. But maintaining my eye level above the bar was the true challenge. With a shudder of pain in my arms, my muscles strained and I locked my joints into the right position, so that I could revel in my height and stare at the distance between me and the ground.<p>

"Good. Nothing short of weak! Now, boys, here's the catch: none of you are getting breakfast until you count to ten—aloud! None of you can say the same number at the same time—and if anyone so as much as falls, falters, or messes up, you're starting all over. Got that? This is your chance to learn how to work together, men. This is why you chose to come here, and out of the _kindness_ of my heart, I'm giving you the chance to redeem yourself. But I won't say anything except 'start over' until you've done it. Now get to it!"

As soon as Nonsurat finished talking, there were already five people shouting "One!".

_"Start over!" _

"Wait, guys!" Jecra shouted over the two others who were agressive enough to begin again. "We have to come up with something. There has to be an order we go in!"

"Yeah, says who?" argued Palamedes. "You're not our boss anymore! And who said that we could talk?"  
>I shot a glance at Nonsurat, but he was detached as ever, watching us suffer from afar. "He never said we could not!" I muttered, but my words were drowned out by Pollux, who hung directly across from me. "Either way, this is our time at waste! Do you intend to finish this or not?"<p>

In frustration, Atelier lifted up her head and yelled over the circle. "One!"

Deneb and Palamedes ruined it by both yelling "Two!".

_"Start over!"_

We tried and tried again in vain, only managing to maintain the rally up to three. By then I was getting tired, almost ready to drop off like a dead bird out of a tree. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead and stung my eyes, but I could not let go of the bar and wipe it away. My arms twitched, and I cautiously tried to maneuver my hands into a reverse grip, in hopes to ease the pain. But I had miscalculated—and a slip of my thumb caused me to fall flat on the ground, landing on my feet and spraining my joints in the process.

"Get up, soldier!"

I winced and got back on the bar with a running jump, in disbelief for letting myself fall like that. And we pressed on and tried again, again and again until I could stand it no longer.

"Guys!" Jecra yelled in desperation. "We can't do this without a plan. Unless we have a set order, none of us will leave by the end of today. Go in the order we enlisted! That's the easiest way."

And all of a sudden, in lieu of the way Squad 19 always operated, everything began to work. Lamorak started off as one, followed by Atelier and Jecra, who were two and three. Then came Pollux, who was fourth. Palamedes and Deneb were five and six.  
>But then in that split-second after Deneb called out his number, I was confused. Without counting Jecra, I was the Squad's seventh soldier. But in technicality, if Jecra was counted...would I still be seven? Before I could think any further or break the chain, I called out seven and hoped that Vega, the only remaining soldier, would catch my mistake. He didn't, claiming eight instead, and nine and ten were covered by Lamorak and Atelier respectively.<p>

And it was done! The entire Squad sighed collectively and fell in unison, grateful to be let off the hook at last. It was this quirk I was slowly getting used to—why was it that whenever we were in normal circumstances, we never got along with each other, but no matter what, when the time came, we were always able to come back together as one? It had happened many times before. Once in bringing my initiation, and again on the Excalibur. In all honesty, it was the only way we were able to get to Ripple Star alive.

In my celebration of letting my tension relax, I barely noticed Nonsurat as he marched back to us, stabbing his halberd into the ground in anger.

"Hey! Who said you could get off without my permission? Get the hell back on the bars, all of you! And in a different order than what you finished with!"

"What?" A collective groan arose from the Squad as we reluctantly mounted the pull-up bars again.

"You're not getting down from there unless I tell you to!"

"Yes, Sir!"

I sighed, hoping that everyone else would have the foresight just to go in reverse order.

It was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

><p>Breakfast came and went—and no signs of chess games influencing the events of my life, but the only thing I remotely looked forward to was spending another training day in the forest with Arthur. Good thing I was not denied that right.<p>

Arthur and I traveled the now-familiar path of the forest, drawing in the song of the birds and the sound of rustling leaves and most of all, the sweet, stardust-tasting air as the wind blew gently by. It was peaceful, indeed...but oddly, not as peaceful as it was the day before. An unsettling feeling ground into my stomach, tensing up at my sides, and the fear materialized into my right arm, and I pawed at the hilt of my sword, anxious to draw it for protection.

"Sir," I said, trying to keep my calm demeanor and the rising tension down. "This morning, Squad 19 mentioned an enlistment order. If so...then what number would that make me?"

"The seventh," Arthur replied. "As far as I am concerned, the soldier called Vega is the eighth. He joined the Squad the night after you arrived, when you remained unconscious."

So I was truly number seven...that explained how no one seemed confused.

"But sir...If..._Jecra_ and the others joined the Army before me..._what happened before I met them?"_

Abruptly, Arthur stopped walking, dead in his tracks.

"That is...That is a long story, Meta. Are you sure you want to know about that?"

"Oh, no, not really. I was just wondering," I muttered before I could think. "If it's a hard subject that I don't deserve to know about, then don't tell me about things that are better left unknown."

The General refocused himself and kept on walking, making sure that the things he said were true. "Though at the heart of it...it's best that you know these things. There is only so much I can explain at one time, and only so much you can grasp as of now. But these are things you deserve to know, Meta. Because I trust that you will keep them well."

The two of us stopped at the clearing of the high ropes course, sitting on a fallen log that served as a bench for the people awaiting their turn on the course when it was in service. For a moment there was no sound but the rustle of the leaves in the trees as the wind blew by. It was here where Sir Arthur unsheathed his sword, holding it firmly and with power.

"What I now tell you has become a story of old," he began. "It was a long time ago. Eons and multitudes of generations past, in terms of mortal years. It was when the Emperor of Darkness—_Nightmare—_began his conquest of the universe." A cold, primordial anger rose in the General's throat, a glint of fire shone in his eyes at the mention of his one and only enemy.

"When he formulated his plans of domination, he decided to take the form of a company—one that sold goods for profit, one that could develop a monopoly. He knew that the hearts of sentient men craved consumerism, and the materialism in their lives was what he exploited. And when his production began, he made things, built as if they were mundane and harmless, but infused with the craft of some evil curse or malediction. And this caused the people—whomever was blind enough to buy his products—to be killed and taken over by the very things they bought and welcomed."

"He ran the company under many fronts, on many stars and many planets. And his preferred form of conquest was like this, in some way or the other. To woo a planet into falling for his business tactics, swindle them out of their money and resources...and until he was satisfied, he would take advantage of a planet until its forests were razed and its streams run dry. And then with a final wave of his hand...the things he sold would turn against their owners."

"Is this...Nightmare Enterprises?"

"Yes. That is just another name his company goes by. But his true name...is _Holy Nightmare Corporation_. And its C.E.O is none but the Emperor of Darkness himself..._Nightmare..."_

I stared back at Arthur in disbelief, my lips enunciating every syllable in wonder. "_Holy...Nightmare...Co.?"_

Another silent moment passed. It was Arthur who decided to bring up the subject again.

"Meta, have you ever heard of asbestos?"

The sudden question took me aback, as if it was random and almost unwarranted. "Yeah, it's a fireproof insulator that looks like white fibers. Why?"

"Why? Because it is also a carcinogen, Meta. If it gets into your lungs it becomes an irritant, and prolonged exposure can lead to lung cancer. In other words...it's a seemingly-harmless, useful product—and it causes death. Are you sensing a pattern here?"

I gasped at the realization. "Does that mean...Could it be that Nightmare manufactures asbestos only to kill innocent people?"

"Precisely. And many other things as well. Lead paint, defective packaged food, radioactive fuels, robots—just to name a few. The list goes on; there's not a single thing in any category Nightmare hasn't attempted to hold a monopoly on. But the real reason why he makes these things is to hide his true products. It's the demon beasts we fight."

"I heard before that Star Warriors _were _destined to fight, but they were called monsters."

"Essentially, they are—I suspect that if you heard about Nightmare Enterprises, you'll know them as monsters. That's nothing far from the truth. But monsters and demon beasts are the same thing. Either way, whatever you call them, they are made for only one purpose—destruction."

"And this is why," he said, standing and helping me up with a gentle hand. "You're going to fight one of his monsters today. Now normally, most soldiers would be fighting simulated demon beasts. In fact, I reckon that is exactly what Nonsurat is having the Squad do right now. But for you, my Meta...you will begin with the real thing."

* * *

><p>A little further beyond the clearing where Kabu resided, the forest grew dark. Birds stopped singing. The ferns grew taller, drier, thicker, and more unkempt. The canopy of the trees filtered out more sunlight, giving the place into a moist, eerie atmosphere that made me uncomfortable and sent chills running down my spine.<p>

Even the path had disappeared. I looked behind and saw that Kabu was long gone now, nowhere in sight—blocked by the massive layers of growth. It was easy to get lost here—just by blindfolding me and spinning me around a few times, I would probably never make my way out of this place.  
>Not far ahead, I began to see signs of civilization again. Or...more like signs of a <em>dead<em> civilization. The steel frame of a water tower lay collapsed in the fork of a tree, rusted until it was a garish brownish-orange. A row of dilapidated, overgrown stone structures wound around the trees. Not far ahead was a rotten-looking wagon, and when I approached it, I could see the skeleton of the driver propped up in its seat, its hands still positioned on the wheel.

"The remains of a bygone era," Arthur said with an ominous tone in his voice. "The Galaxy Soldier Army does not know what happened here, nor do the citizens of Ripple Star have records of this place ever existing. I found this place shortly after the fairies pointed us to Kabu. But all we know for sure...is that Nightmare has been here."

He and I stopped in front of a warehouse, or at least what used to be one—with the wooden plank walls knitted together through many layers of Kudzu vines, and the roof partially caved in.  
>"Are you afraid?"<br>Hesitantly, I nodded.  
>"Don't be. The Stars will always watch over you."<p>

Sir Arthur stepped through the threshold with me in tow, and I found that the inside of the place wasn't as vulnerable-looking as the outside. The entire structure was reinforced with steel beams and the walls were metal-plated on the inside, which explained why it was able to last for as long as it did. Strangely, an old monitor screen hung on mechanical arms attached to the ceiling, presumably so that it could fold and be stored away and hidden in the support beams. But what piqued my curiosity was not how old the warehouse was—but the thing that was in the center of it.

What I saw was nothing short of science fiction—it was a circular raised platform adorned with glass plates and titanium supports, engineered and built like nothing else on the planet. A pointed spindle hung above it, and it rounded off to a red, globe-shaped point that was glowing—faintly and fading, but still in power nonetheless. It awed me how everything around it had already decayed and fallen apart, but this mysterious mechanism, though only barely weathered and laced with cobwebs, had survived and outlived all.

Arthur beckoned me to come with him and we walked over to the stack of crates that lay five feet away from it. He pushed away the top box to reveal a hidden panel with several unlabeled buttons on it, attached to a stand that suspended it from the ground.  
>"Meta, I want you to take a good look at this."<p>

On the ground lay an open book, its pages faded yellow with age. I picked it up, dusting off the cover with my gauntleted hand. Illustrated on the cover of the book was none other than the sillouhette of Nightmare himself.

"You were right, Sir. Nightmare _has_ been here!"

"Flip through it," he commanded, and I carefully turned the spiral-bound pages, flipping through page after page of illustrations containing the creations of the Emperor of Darkness. "Demon beast catalogue, war monster edition," I read aloud from the back cover.

"As to why the citizens of this civilization wanted _that_ particular catalogue is unknown. Whatever the cause, we suspect that a beast from this volume caused the destruction of their settlement. But nevertheless...it will prove to be useful today."

Arthur placed his hand on the console and his finger hovered over the largest button. "You are looking at the demon beast transmitter, Nightmare's pride and joy. It is what sends his creations from his base of operations to his customers, through a level of technology that the GSA has yet to fully replicate. Today, we will be using it to download demon beasts. And you...you will fight them."

He took the catalogue and placed it on the floor, set open to a page with a picture of a blubbery, horned monstrosity and a caption below it. "War monster 00026-6B, Moon-class demon beast," he read from the caption. "Ah. So shamelessly mass-produced, it doesn't even have a name."

The General turned to me and laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, as if to salute me with this gesture. "In a moment, Meta, right after I press the download button, this demon beast will be your enemy. You will fight it, and you will kill it. Alone, they are vulnerable as soon as you strike through their weakness, but in groups of five or more...they can be lethal. I want you to remember nonetheless that this is a very real threat, and you may very well lose your life if you are not careful. Remember that you are no longer fighting me—while I may have shown you mercy, these demons will not. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Very well then. _Download!"_

With the press of a button, the transmitter sprung to life, sparkling with electricity as the beast materialized on the glass framed platform. In a blinding flash of light, the mechanism stopped—and before me stood a demonified walrus, with two curved tusks sharpened like scimitars and a horn like a drill bit mounted on its forehead. It reared its head and let out a bloodcurdling roar, slithering off the platform and upon its fall to the ground, it caused the foundation of the warehouse to shake.  
>I jumped back in surprise and unsheathed my sword, the reaction causing me to dodge an icy blast from the monster's mouth by a mere inch. I could feel the frost of the frozen jet stream gather on my arm, but I couldn't stand still and let the rest of my body become ice. But what was there to do? I couldn't bring myself to attack; no matter what, I knew that my blade couldn't penetrate through the monster's thick leathery skin or get through its defenses. Shivering, I ran behind the transmitter and circled over so that I was opposite of Arthur, who stood in the doorway, sealing off the only exit.<p>

"Analyze it, Meta! See if you can find its weakness!"

Both my hands tightened around the hilt of my sword as I charged, aiming for the demon walrus' back flippers, only for it to kick me in mid-swing, without turning its head backwards, and it knocked me to the back wall of warehouse, collapsed in a crumpled heap.

"It is sensitive to noise," Arthur muttered quietly. "But its hearing is far stronger than its sight. See to it if you can exploit that!"

The demon beast turned around and lumbered towards me, its pointed, diamond-shaped eyes gleaming red. Grinning, the horn on its head began to spin, its head lowered as it charged at me, dragging its fat body along with an alarmingly fast speed. Before I could make contact with the beast, I jumped, using its exposed neck as a footstool to leap up again and grab onto the metal supports in the ceiling.  
>There I hung, tense and scared to even breathe, as the monster whipped its head around, looking for me. I held my breath as I examined its upper back, and the portions of its skin that seemed the most vulnerable. But I was quickly losing grip, and as my palms were damp with sweat it grew increasingly hard to keep holding on tight.<br>I shuddered. The tactic that came to me was nearly impossible for me to do, let alone plausible enough to pull off. The monster was still there, turning circles in confusion, looking in every direction but at the point directly above its head.

And that was when I struck. With a battle cry as faint as a whimper I dropped from the ceiling, holding my blade diagonal to the ground, and I winced as the blood splattered on my face as the sword hit home, severing through blubber and spinal cord and nerve endings. When my feet hit the ground, I came face-to-face with the headless body of the demon beast...and its decapitated head, sitting lifeless on the ground as it stared back up at me with empty, dead eyes.

_I killed a monster. _The realization hit me like the funnel cloud of a tornado. But before I could break down and stare in disbelief at the blood on my hands, the body of the monster began to spark with electricity. I tottered back in surprise, nearly hitting the opposite wall as the monster's body exploded in a storm of sparks, and when the dust settled it had completely disappeared, leaving no trace of its existence but the blood still smeared over my forehead.

The stained double-edged sword clattered on the ground at my feet, and I collapsed along with it. I was frozen in shock. I..._killed _something. For the first time, I'd drawn blood that wasn't mine. Intentionally.  
>I was no longer innocent, no longer pure. The blood that was set into my headband, dripping over my Warp Star, and soaked into my white gauntlets—that only proved it. And truly, from here on I was at a point where I could absolutely not run away. The deliberate killing of something had bound me into this Army. At least, that was what I felt. It was like crossing the threshold of the warehouse, from the forest and into the sight of the demon beast transmitter. It gave me an ugly, terrible feeling—as if it was some old, arcane <strong>evil, rising <strong>to power so that it could overwhelm me.

"_Meta."_

I barely noticed Sir Arthur when he strode over to my side.

_"Look at me, _Meta._"_

I looked up, and his hand was outstretched, his eyes gleaming with compassion. His gauntlets and armor were clean and bright. Then I glanced back at myself, dark and dirty and undeserving.

"A soldier shouldn't be caught up in fear and hatred. And there's no reason for you to mourn the death of a monster, either. You came here today so that you could carry out your mission, and I guarantee that you will many more times in the future. So cheer up, Meta. Don't drown yourself in these feelings, because it will only end up killing you."

Arthur reached down and helped me up, wiping the blood off my Warp Star until it was polished and gleaming brightly with its glorious glow. Although I couldn't see him smile, I was pretty sure he did.

"There...that's much better. Now how about we get you to Kabu right now?"

I nodded firmly, and Arthur's assurance was good enough to make me hop on my feet. "Yes, let's!"

"Under one condition, though, Meta."  
>"What is it?"<p>

"After you're healed...you're coming right back for more."

* * *

><p>Weeks passed since that visit to the warehouse.<p>

In those weeks I'd grown stronger, far stronger than I'd ever been before. I couldn't say with confidence that the fear of death was still within me, but it was definitely receding, for sure. Of course, to face my fear with hopes of conquering it, I'd slain many more demon beasts—some real, some imitation. There were days where I'd spend almost the entire day with Arthur, sparring with him, walking with him, and, of course, enjoying his prescence. Yet also, there were days when I'd barely see him at all—and I spent those hours fulfilling my mandatory morning training with Nonsurat, running however many laps he ordered us to run, toughing through whatever form of torture he'd instill upon us next. Eventually, near the end of the first week, the number of laps we had to run maxed out at nine, totaling to just a little under five kilometers. It was unbelievable—it took time at first, but eventually, by the end of the second, I'd built up enough stamina to run the five kilometers in full. Perhaps the most interesting part of the day was when he put us through simulation training—running through exemplary wartime missions through the aid of some kind of advanced technology copied from Nightmare's own inventions, down to fully-functional, programmed demon beasts that could be produced solely for training soldiers. It was a new experience for me—going into a whitewashed room and having the walls morph into a virtual-reality simulator, complete with a battlefield and holographic demon beasts. All in all, I loved it. Not the fact that I was fighting—it would be immoral to ever enjoy fighting—but the essence of experiencing new things each day was good enough to make me excited.

How quickly time had passed, since my old routines were swapped out and replaced with new ones. Now it felt like this was the only life I'd ever lived and known...except I was pleased with it. The more I trained, the more I grew—as a soldier, as a person. Sir Arthur kept on mentioning it, that there was far more for me in store than what was on the surface, and for once, I began to think about the greater purpose of life. All my life I'd always wanted to reach for something that I thought was _out there,_ but never had a chance to reach at. And now I'd reached it. Not only that, I'd found it, called to it, and nailed it into my heart. And it was then I realized that through my body, through my veins and my core and my innermost being...ran the blood of a Star Warrior.

And it was when I felt this feeling of inward direction the most, I was called and summoned before the General, Sir Arthur himself, and in their room of conference I stood before him, along with the three other Lieutenant Generals that were here for their one distinct purpose.

"Meta," the General announced in his firm, baritone voice.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do you know the reason why we called you here, Meta?"

"No, Sir."

"You are here...because of the plans ahead of you, Meta. The same plans we've discussed for the past weeks, those plans in the near future and of the events still yet to come. But anyway, we come to propose you a challenge—not a challenge you can refuse, but one that will test your ability as a rising soldier of the Stars."

I glanced at the three Lieutenant Generals standing behind Arthur, noting how rare it was for the four of them to ever be in the same place together. Sir Falspar, Sir Dragato, and even Nonsurat were present, all looking at me expectantly.

"Salutations, Meta," said Sir Falspar, the one wielding a sword. "We have heard much of you."

"All good things, apparently," added Dragato. "So we came to see if what Arthur said was true!"

Nonsurat said nothing.

"Well, there you have it," concluded Arthur. "Now you know what made us gather together. But if you want to be told plainly...then we propose to complete your final leg of training in a way that few have ever managed to complete before. We have analyzed the members of Squad 19 but found them all insufficient for this particular mission. And so we devised this—instead of going through another level of boot camp, you will receive firsthand experience of what it means to be a warrior–and be guided through by each of us, one General at a time. In other words, you will be trained by each of us and be put in four different missions—if you manage to complete all four successfully and come through alive, you will succeed.

"And...in other words...you are on your way to becoming a Knight."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: 414/12**

Now you have it—if you were waiting for me to give my take on the real backstory of HNM/NME (I use those names interchangeably), it's all in here. It's something I've wanted to put more depth to pretty much ever since I first saw the anime years ago, and I always thought that it was completely possible for Nightmare to have had an influence on our world. Who knew Nightmare could sell asbestos?  
>Can anyone figure out why this chapter's called '<strong>E<strong>vil Arises'? Or why I keep on bolding the first letter of the chapter titles? Or why I spent so much time describing Wolfwrath earlier? [Hint: Foreshadowing. Confused? Don't worry about it]


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note: Update 6/24/13:** Yup. It's been exactly a year, and...still working on chapter 7.


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